The Colonel- Series 3- Still Marching On
by ray gower
Summary: Captain Janeway and Neelix try to make life interesting for the crew. Seven makes the Colonel uncomfortable. The Colonel and Voyager go to war and find peace again
1. A Bit of Variety

1-21 A Bit of Variety

Authors Note

Paramounts Voyager has burnt its course in classic fashion in the States, seemingly leaving the usual mix of frustration, incredulation, indignation and a lot of other words ending in tion' some of them even pleasant. Fortunately/Unfortunately (delete as applicable) the Colonel series hasn't yet and I hope you will humour me by accepting the continuance of the story to a logical, fitting and final end.  
Ray gower

**1-21 A Bit of Variety**

_Neelix plans a way to boost moral. He convinces the captain to let the crew switch places with each other for few days in a training exercise. The idea starts off well enough, then an unintentional spanner is thrown in the works and Voyagers crew find they learn more than Captain Janeway bargained for..._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The story line courtesy Miss A'Lehsen Paris (_[_Warpspeed)_][1]_ and myself and the Colonel is my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail story@rgower.plus.com_

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start with the Colonel._

_This story is rated PG_

_©R Gower 2000_

  
  


Captain Kathryn Janeway was concerned. 

She was sitting at her desk in her Ready Room, reading a report from Chakotay on the subject of crew morale. It claimed it was dangerously low. In fact, it hadn't been this low in a long time! Along with the 'Efficiency Review', produced by Seven of Nine, which claimed that the crew were also performing below par, she reckoned she had a right to be at least a little worried.

The problem was, she was not sure what to do about it. 

In the three months since they had left Cathor she had run extra drills and simulations; Thanks to Neelix there had been twice the number of 'Celebrations' compared to the normal; The holodecks were fully booked with a whole host of new programmes appearing, full of 'Fun' things to do.

The problem she realised was boredom. Since their hurried departure from Cathor there had been absolutely nothing to do! No planets, ships or even an uninteresting dust cloud. Seven's long range scans promised nothing of note for another three months at the ships current cruising velocity, a relaxed Warp 5. In point of fact this was one of the most empty regions she could ever remember being in. The ships new engines were working perfectly and were producing more power than they knew what to do with. Even the Holodecks, usually guaranteed to suffer a fault when things were slack, had been performing faultlessly.

Her concern for the state of the 'Collective' crews mind, reminded her of her own entanglement with a sudden break from action. 'Trench Happiness', the Colonel had diagnosed it as. She shuddered at the thought of what she had wanted to do then; Give up on her duty, crew and ship. Now they all needed something to pep up their lives.

The door chime interrupted her brooding.

"Come," she called out irritably.

Neelix entered, his comical face lit with an excited smile. He fairly bounced into the room.

"Neelix, I really don't have time--" Janeway said quietly, looking up from her work. She tried to keep control, but the strain of the inaction over past several days leaked into her voice anyway.

Neelix's happy expression drooped for a moment, but then it was back full force. "Oh, but Captain, I've had such a wonderful idea!" he exclaimed.

Janeway sighed softly, hoping that Neelix wouldn't notice. Whenever he had one of his 'wonderful' ideas, things either got better or worse. She didn't want to bet on how this one would turn out. "What idea is that?" she asked cautiously, laying the reports aside for a moment. She would have to find a solution later.

"Switching places!" Neelix said enthusiastically.

"I beg your pardon?" Janeway asked with a frown. 

"Let the crew switch places. They can learn about the other jobs on the ship, and it'll give them a chance to mingle," Neelix said.

Janeway considered this for a moment. "How would you suggest we choose who would get each job?" she asked after thinking it over. Perhaps a solution might just fall in her lap.

Neelix fairly glowed when he realised that she was considering his plan.

"Oh, 'We' shouldn't choose, Captain! There should be a draw. Whichever job you draw, unless it's the one you already have, you have to perform for.... a week?" he suggested.

Janeway thought that this definitely had possibilities. "I don't like the idea of Tom being away from the helm during an emergency, or B'Elanna out of Engineering. Let's say.... four days. And battle stations stay the same," she said reflectively.

"That sounds wonderful, Captain! I knew you would appreciate this little plan," Neelix exclaimed, clasping his hands together in satisfaction. His yellow eyes gleamed.

"It has potential, Neelix. It has a lot of potential," Janeway agreed with a smile.

"And you'll participate too, of course, Captain," Neelix added.

Now Janeway started to get wary. "I don't think so, Neelix," she began to argue.

Neelix frowned, somehow managing to look hurt, confused, and impatient all at once. "Why not, Captain? As you said, battle stations will stay the same. And you've left other officers in charge before. This could be a learning experience for you, as well," he said earnestly. 

Janeway felt tempted to let herself be swayed by his arguments. "I just don't know about that, Neelix..." she said reluctantly.

"Captain, how can you expect the crew to benefit from and enjoy this little experiment if you don't join in?" Neelix asked.

Janeway gave it some more thought. Yes, it would be nice to do something other than run the ship and worry about the crew for once. And she 'would' be able to take over if anything untoward happened....

"All right, Neelix," she gave in as gracefully as possible.

Neelix beamed again. "Now, we need to make some definite plans...." 

  
  


It was a typical lunch scene in the Mess Hall. Tom, B'Elanna, Harry, and Ensign Ayala were gathered around one table, eating their not-so-edible looking meals and exchanging gossip.

"So, have any of you heard about what the Captain and Neelix are scheming?" Harry asked. He eyed the miss-shaped glob of greenish-yellow gloop at the end of his fork and regretted the fact that he had used up all of his replicator rations on that last trip to the holodeck. There'd be no real meals for him for at least two weeks.

B'Elanna frowned. "Nicoletti told me today that she heard that it was going to be another luau, but bigger this time. Then Carey told me that 'He' heard that it was going to be another Talent Night," she said with a delicate shudder. This was partly because she had just taken a bite of the gloop.

"I think that it's going to be a Talent Night, personally. After all, we haven't had one in at least a month," Ayala commented.

B'Elanna glowered. "I do not like Talent Night," she mumbled. The men were kind enough not to remind her exactly why she didn't like it.

"Well, I think it won't be any of those," Tom said. He was grinning, thinking about B'Elanna's performance a year before.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"I overheard part of a conversation earlier today. The Captain was saying that she would enjoy the break from command for a few days. Now, what do you all think that means?" Tom asked in return. It's not as though there is anywhere for her to go. His eyes glittered with amusement.

The four sat there in silence. There were so many possibilities. But at least something was going to happen. Action was something that the ship had been greatly lacking in the past month or so.

  
  


Meanwhile, in the Captain's Ready Room, Janeway and Neelix were preparing the program that would randomly select new crew member for each and every position on the ship. 

They were sharing some laughs, as they envisioned the different crew members doing jobs that they weren't at all used to.

"Can you see Tom as a security officer? Or Chakotay in Sickbay?" Neelix asked. 

Janeway shook her head. "Those wouldn't be the worst," she commented. 

"What about B'Elanna--as Captain? I'd feel very sorry for the Bridge crew if she got my position. Or the Colonel in Engineering?"

They laughed again, and continued working. Just one more day, and then they would give the crew their little surprise.

  
  


Captain Janeway nearly laughed with glee as she looked around the briefing room table at her senior officers sombre faces, two days later. This was the day that she would tell them all of the Plan. 

She and Neelix had completed the random selection program just hours before, and they had decided that the sooner they began, the better. So, the crew of Voyager was about to get a major overhaul.

"Captain, may I ask what this is all about?" Chakotay asked after they had spent a few minutes in silence.

Janeway did smile then, slightly. She didn't want to give away how pleased she was with this idea quite yet. 

"We, the crew of Voyager, are going to perform a major experiment in crew development," she told them. "Since morale and efficiency on this ship has been drastically low the past few weeks, we will be trading places with each other. It will facilitate understanding and fellowship among the crew."

The eight faces in front of her wore nearly identical frowns. "We're going to be switching departments?" Harry asked first.

Janeway shook her head. "Not just the senior officers, Harry, but the entire crew are switching places. Neelix and I have designed a program which will randomly select crew members for each job on this ship, from Captain on down.

The program will place us in fields as different from our own as possible," she explained.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Is it logical, Captain, to put crew members in positions where they have no previous experience, or to which they are not suited?" he asked.

Janeway smiled. "That's the best part, Tuvok! We will be finding out what our crew members can do and put up with on a day to day basis," she said with relish.

"I'm not going to let inexperienced crew members run the ship in an emergency situation, of course," she added. "Battle stations will remain the same. It will only be for four days and we aren't expecting anything for at least a couple of months."

They seemed to consider the information carefully, unwilling to comment yet.

B'Elanna's reaction was the most dramatic. She was frowning unhappily, most likely at the idea of having to turn over her precious engines to someone else. Janeway didn't blame her. She had felt the same way about giving up her command, even if it was just for four days.

Finally, Tom spoke up. His eyes glittered with anticipation. "This could be very interesting," he said. 

The same spirit seemed to overtake most of her staff. B'Elanna still looked slightly unhappy, though. This changed when Tom leaned over from his position beside her and whispered in her ear. A devilish smile then played on both sets of lips.

Captain Janeway wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not, but as long as it made B'Elanna cooperate she wasn't going to argue. Instead, she smiled around at them all again. "We shall announce the results of the draw in the Mess tomorrow lunch time," she announced.

A chorus of "Ayes" made her laugh.

I'm surprised I didn't get a response from you, Colonel? She said quietly as the others marched out the Conference Room. You aren't impressed, are you?

He had sat and listened impassively through out the meeting.

Alone of the crew, he and Seven of Nine were the only two who appeared unaffected by the lack of activity. Each quietly and effectively getting on with their duties, yet obviously revelling in each others company when they were together, as they settled slowly to close and apparently harmonious married life.

It's not for me to be impressed, Ma'am, he opined. It is not a new idea. Moving people on temporary detachments to other units used to be done quite regularly. It's just the application that seems a little extreme. Replacing everybody could be considered extreme?

Besides, I'm not involved! This is a Star Fleet thing. You're doing it to yourselves. My Rules Of Engagement prohibit me from objecting! He added with obvious relief.

You are involved, so is Seven! Janeway exclaimed quickly. I said everybody and I meant it. You will have a new post to try.

The Colonels eyebrows shot up in surprise. Are you sure, Ma'am? He demanded sharply. Need I remind you my technical abilities are still well below the standards required for a technical post? I might be able to handle Hydroponics for a few days, because I can't do any serious damage there. But imagine the horrors if your damned computer puts me in Engineering?

If you blow us up, you will be the first to know about it, she assured him. I'll make sure B'Elanna puts the dangerous commands out of reach.

he accepted her assurance, but managed to seem unenthusiastic in the reply.

  
  


The Mess that lunch time was full of speculation as the news of the forthcoming event filtered into the darkest corners of the ship. It had Tom and B'Elanna Paris, as the only senior officers there, holding court, fending off questions about the potential results of the following days draw.

No. I don't think the results will put crewmen in charge of departments! B'Elanna patiently fended off a question from Crewman Carlile. But you will be put somewhere different from Hydroponics. It could be Engineering, or in the Phasor Room, or anywhere on the ship!

You will have to wait and see, Tom came to her rescue. We don't know what is going to happen either! 

We could all become drones for Captain Seven of Nine! He laughed loudly.

It was a comment that Seven of Nine picked up from the servery. She collected the package she had entered the Mess for and approached the table at which B'Elanna and Tom were sitting.

Where are you hoping to be moved to, Seven? B'Elanna asked cheerfully. Even you must have places that you would like to work in, or not?

I have no desire to be Captain, Seven of Nine commented carefully. It is not in my nature to create a route for others to follow. However I shall endeavour to be efficient in whatever function is demanded of me.

Spoken like a true Borg, B'Elanna laughed happily. I wouldn't mind a spell on the Bridge, demanding more power from the Captain in Engineering. That is what I'd call the perfect scenario!

Now, where are you sneaking off to? She demanded. Not another surprise dinner for Alan?

We are sharing a holodeck with Ensigns Wildman, Connelly, Kala and crewman Winston, Seven of Nine responded flatly. They invited us to join them in their beach simulation. The Colonel volunteered to provide a 'picnic'.

He has rations for that? Tom exclaimed.

Yes. But most of the food is fresh, prepared to his specification, Seven admitted.

That is the other thing I want to see, B'Elanna interrupted. Alan as Catering Officer. Just think, edible food three times a day!

Go on, get out of here. Before you get bombarded with questions as well. Just make sure your swim wear isn't too daring, she added with a laugh.

I was not intending to wear, swim wear', Seven responded in mild confusion, heading for the door.

  
  


The Colonel intercepted her as he hurried towards the Mess to pick up the picnic he had requested. 

You picked it up for me! Thank you! He exclaimed gratefully. He kissed her tenderly. You are a wonderful wife.

Please. Let me take that! He insisted, wresting the parcel from her arms.

Lieutenant Paris suggested I should replicate Swim wear', she commented. Is that required?

The Colonel shrugged. If that is what you want to wear, he suggested. I am not aware of any particular dress code.

They entered the holodeck to be met by Naomi Wildman and her mother. Both appeared to be wearing Summer' frocks.

I'm sorry, Ma'am. I appear to be overdressed, the Colonel commented at the sight. But we did remember to bring lunch!

They giggled.

We suspected as much, Samantha Wildman admitted happily. Especially from Seven. There is a bathing hut on the beach with suitable clothing for you both. Go and get changed.

The Bermuda' shorts and shirt the Ensign had put aside for him were definitely not Him', the Colonel decided as soon as he saw them. Not wishing to be seen as that large a wet blanket', he swallowed his dignity and put them on, as ordered. Gaily printed and wide legged, he suspected he looked as gawdy and out of place as he felt.

The selection for Seven was much better, he decided, as he turned to help her stretch the single piece halter over her body, then wrap and tie the simple beach skirt around her.

Well at least one of us looks as though they belong, he commented wistfully. If I wasn't already so pathetically in love with you, I would be now. He winked at conspiratorially at her, boosting her confidence.

I am uncertain for the need for this form of dress, claimed Seven nervously.

Just accept my word it suits you, the Colonel grinned offering her his arm. Shall we join the party?

They linked arms and walked down the beach.

Samantha Wildman examined them critically as they approached.

I think I mucked up on yours Colonel, she admitted. I'm sorry for that. But Sevens suits her perfectly.

Mrs Nine would look fit in anything, Ma'am, the Colonel opined happily. As for me. I'm frightfully British remember. Rolled up trouser legs, vest and knotted hanky for my balding head are about my limit.

She laughed at him. You wouldn't suit that either! There must be something you could wear for next time?

I could wear battle dress. I find that is generally suitable for most beach occasions I've been involved with," he offered.

"No!" Sam Wildman responded in shock. "We aren't at war!"

Surely you've been to the beach without being at war? Kala demanded joining the discussion.

Oh yes! The Colonel agreed. The first one I saw! That was Scarborough. I wasn't wearing anything like this then either!

They looked at him in puzzlement.

It was a Force 9 gale in the middle of November. It was raining and freezing Brass Monkeys'. So I was in sou'westers and helping to reinforce the sea walls. He laughed at their bemusement.

Well this is the Bahama's. There is nothing like that here, Connelly announced with a grin, passing the Colonel and Seven tall glasses. So you will have to learn something new!

That is true, Mr Connelly, the Colonel admitted reflectively. I can't say I've ever been to the Bahama's before. I suspect they tend to be rather dull. Now if you'll permit me, I'll prepare luncheon?

You know what these islands are famous for, don't you? the Colonel asked as they lounged easily in the sunshine after lunch.

They collectively shook their heads at him.

Rum, fever and pirates!

Naomi exclaimed. That's exciting! She looked around as if expecting them to leap out at her.

They weren't as romantic as stories would have you believe, the Colonel laughed. Most of them were under contract to the Royal Navy. Tasked with looting Spanish ships.

Now as I'm togged like a beach bum. I suppose I ought to go and get my feet wet, he suggested. Anybody else? Seven? Naomi?

You are going swimming? Naomi asked in excitement.

Good heavens, No! If I could swim I'd be in the Navy! But somebody once told me that there were so many sharks in the sea in this area that if you went into the water you couldn't be more than 30 yards from one. I ought to at least put a toe in the water so I can claim I've swum with them! He grinned at her as her face fell and held out his hand. It's alright I know how to deal with sharks, he confided.

You do? She asked uncertainly.

Oh Yes. All you do, is you put your hand in his mouth. Wait for him to close it again, then pull his teeth out. 

He winked at her and she laughed at him. You shouldn't tease me like that! She exclaimed.

She followed both him and Seven as they walked towards the sea.

  
  


Samantha Wildman followed them a short while later. She found them in the sea, the water over their waists helping Naomi leap over the small breakers. They were obviously enjoying themselves she decided. She stood and watched them with a knowing grin on her face.

Seven of Nine spotted her and pointed. It is time to cease this activity, she claimed.

Must we? Naomi moaned. This is fun!

Your mother is waiting, Seven said. Surprisingly, she had to admit to herself, she had enjoyed the time as well.

Do you want to try leaping the waves? The Colonel asked quietly as she watched the girl wade ashore, gently lifting her over the wave that splashed around them.

It is time we returned to our duties, Seven pointed out. We will be late!

He gently took her waist and kissed her on the neck. You're probably right, as usual, he sighed. Besides I think it would be better on our own on a bright moonlit night. Certainly more romantic.

She turned in his arms and placed her own kiss on his lips. That will be acceptable, she claimed. Then kissed him again, before he could comment.

Together they waded after Naomi. Then took their leave of the Beach party. Samantha Wildman noticing that Seven hadn't retrieved her skirt after coming ashore. Idly she wondered how Seven would cope with a child of her own.

  
  


The Captain appeared in the Mess at the prescribed time carrying three PADD's listing the computer's selections. She had been tempted to change a few. But after much gentle coaxing from Neelix, she had finally agreed to the computer based selection.

As virtually the whole crew were there, it was packed and she could hardly make herself heard. A situation the Colonel remedied by lifting her bodily onto a table. From there she could watch their worried faces as she read out the computer selections.

As you know, she claimed. These selections have been produced by the Computer. You will all be moved to a different department. But I am confident none of you will be totally out of your league, simply because you are the best crew in Star Fleet. She smiled at them encouragingly

Broad smiles lit up the worried faces to that compliment and she felt her own confidence soar.

The plan will be put into action in two days time. During that time you will have to seek out any assistance and advice you think you will need for your new post, she added.

She took out the first PADD and started to read off the new roles. Starting with her senior staff.

Chakotay moving to Security; Doctor to Ops; Ensign Kim will be chief Conn; Neelix will be First Officer; Lieutenant B'Elanna Paris, Captain; Lieutenant Tom Paris, Astrometrics; Lieutenant Colonel Samuels, Engineering, She definitely saw him grimace at that announcement. Seven of Nine, Medical Officer; Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, Morale Officer. She had to take a deep breath for that one, the Vulcan's disapproval was palpable.

She continued heedlessly through the list until she finished. 

Have I missed anybody? She asked.

Yes, Ma'am, the Colonel responded immediately. I think you missed a certain Captain Kathryn Janeway?

She blushed deeply. I drew Hydroponics, she admitted in embarrassment.

There were numerous laughs from around the crowded room.

I'll do you a swap, Ma'am? The Colonel offered gallantly.

She shook her head. I agreed to this. I'll have to live with the results, she claimed. 

Besides I need the rest, she added with a rueful grin. Just make sure I get my ship back in one piece at the end of it!

  
  


The Captain surveyed her new domain in some distress and trepidation. Wondering why she had not taken her own advice and tried to gain some tips from the ensign in command of the section.

She knew what Hydroponics did, everybody did. It provided much of the fresh food and even purified some of the air and water for the ship. It was just how' it did it that was escaping her.

Unlike most of the ship, characterised by gleaming control panels. Hydroponics was a steamy mess of pipes and high intensity lights. It was a scene that had not changed a great deal in over a hundred years of space flight, she reflected. Certainly the bay was not as big as it was once was. Production was now assisted by advanced growing mediums and nutrients, plus much of the demand for the department to produce food had been reduced by the introduction of replicators. But every Star Ship still had one by design. It was supposed to be capable of producing enough food, air and water to supplement standard emergency stocks for at least three months in an emergency.

As for the crew that staffed it. The officer in command tended to be selected from ensigns that failed the grade for promotion. They volunteered to take Hydroponics so that they could stay in Star Ships and maintain the status and promotion prospects that went with it. 

She had been lucky with her Hydroponics Officer. Ensign Hemmark came from a family of farmers and had tried to break from the family tradition. It was unfortunate for him, that he had ended up still farming on the other side of the Galaxy. Fortunately for the ship, he had found he actually enjoyed farming, despite his original reluctance.

The crewmen tended to be better selected. They were known to posses agricultural skills and were selected from those that volunteered for Colony settling.

She had, she reflected, taken the section for granted. She dimly recalled demanding that output from Hydroponics should be increased, and sanctioning the replication of new growing tanks and lighting. But she had never really checked to see what they were doing with them. Now she was going to find out the hard way.

She turned to her new desk and checked the records, hoping for some clue as to what she was supposed to do for the next few days. Technically Hydroponics was an Engineering Section, so she was going to be under the general control of Colonel Samuels. She shuddered at the thought. He would be a hard task master and a stickler for performance, she doubted he would be any gentler on her than any of the others that she had occasionally put in his control. He would almost certainly demand to know what she was intending to grow when he inspected. She was certain he would inspect and she would have to remember to refer to him as Sir'.

It was with great relief that she found that Hemmark had ensured that his records were upto date. Two of the tanks were scheduled for harvesting that day, several others would be due over her tenure. They would then have to be steamed out and relined for another crop. Four more were waiting for new crops to be planted. She was she realised going to be busier than she thought possible. No wonder Hemmark tended to wear a boiler suit. Her three man crew would need her help to keep to the schedule as they manhandled the 2x1 Metre beds.

She also noticed a small packet on the desk. Somebody had written on it in large letters, Plant these first and take care of them'. 

She examined the seeds that the packet contained curiously. They were small and black, otherwise unremarkable, with no hint as to what they actually were.

Sliding them back into the packet she turned to her crew. Tanks nine and twelve need harvesting, she commanded. At least she could do that.

  
  


Morning, Ladies and Gentlemen! The Colonel started his day by glaring at his Engineering' Crew, silently challenging them to correct him by adding Good' to the return. They remained respectfully and nervously silent. He was thankful that the four officers in his new section should at least know a little more about what they were about than he did, even if not the details.

He had taken the Captains advice and had badgered B'Elanna and Vorik ceaselessly over the previous 48 hours. He now knew, more or less, what the main panels did and how to observe the various readouts. Even if he didn't know with any great assurity what to do about them if they veered from normal.

Quickly he settled into brisk tasking. Detailing crewmen to watch the various readouts and assigning a maintenance crew for daily power distribution checks. Finished with that he turned to Ensign Carver and handed him a pocket full of PADD's. 

These are the original manuals for the power and engine systems, Ensign, he intoned. The trouble is they bare little relationship with what actually happens. So we are going to find out what happens when we press buttons.

Mark one suck it and see, the Ensign declared cheerfully, using the Colonels terminology.

Something like that, he agreed amiably. You press the buttons and I make a note of what happens. Then if it goes wrong I can blame you when Lieutenant Paris comes looking for heads. He winked at the now nervous ensign.

Shall we begin?

  
  


B'Elanna and her Bridge crew had fewer concerns. Certainly B'Elanna had been briefed by the Captain, then re-briefed as she thought of other items she may have forgotten. 

In the end she had been quite blunt with the Captain. Enough, already! She had declared. It's only going to be for a couple of days!

She could still see the Captains stunned face, it brought a smile to her face. No doubt she would pay for it later, but for the time being...

Of the others. Ensign Kim knew how to handle a shuttle, all he had to do was scale things up a little. Chakotay knew how Tactical worked. Neelix had at least commanded a ship. Not a Star Ship, or one with a crew as large as Voyagers, but it was a space ship. The Doctor undoubtedly knew how to handle the Operations Console.

That left Tom in Astro-Metrics. He was a good pilot. But he knew very little about the advanced Astro-Metrics suite. That gave her an idea, she could make his life hell as well.

Captain to Astro-Metrics. I want a full spectrum sensor sweep for the next ten light years, she demanded. That would keep his mind off the Delaney twins, which ever one had been sent there, she thought.

Aye, Ma'am! Came his worried response.

Her next worry was what was happening in Engineering. The Colonel had bombarded her with questions and she had answered them with good humour. But it didn't stop her fretting over what was happening to her Engine Room.

Neelix, take command, she announced and stalked for the lift. Her departure was watched by an amused Chakotay. B'Elanna was displaying much of Kathryn's need to see for herself what was happening aboard her ship.

  
  


She found the Colonel with Ensign Carver pouring over the Impulse controls when she entered. She stood and eavesdropped for a moment.

Press that orange one there, the Colonel said, pointing to a glowing pad.

The Ensign dutifully did as was requested. Another pad lit and flashed red, to be peered at by the Colonel. Vent Plasma, he read aloud.

Put a note on it. Makes us glow like a Christmas Tree', he ordered. Now the button next to it.

Again the Ensign complied, for another control to activate. Emergency Jettison, Sir! he read the symbols off for the Colonel. Another note, Sir? He asked innocently.

One that says Don't touch on pain of Lieutenant Paris', the Colonel opined. The ensign nudged him in the ribs and nodded towards B'Elanna, who was struggling not to laugh.

Good Morning, Ma'am! He announced, coming to attention and saluting the bemused Lieutenant. She found the action as amusing as the Captain.

What are you doing? She demanded through her laughter.

The manuals and the ship do not coincide, Ma'am! The Colonel explained. So we are attempting to rig one that allows us to avoid the worst mistakes.

With lots of little notes stuck to the console? She smirked, indicating the dots of small tags attached to the main engineering consoles.

Got to start somewhere, Ma'am! He opined in stout defence of his actions. And I have no intention of walking home from here because I hit the wrong thing.

Didn't I tell you not to touch anything? She demanded.

You did, Ma'am, the Colonel agreed calmly. I recall I responded, If its not broke I won't fix it', you accepted the arrangement at the time.

She shook her head. It was true the Colonel was a difficult person to argue with. 

She relented. How are things going otherwise?

All stations manned. Systems are operating within normal parameters. Regret I have had insufficient time to inspect Hydroponics yet, Ma'am. I was intending to do so after lunch. Captain Janeway should have settled in by then, he kept his face and voice deadpan, even when B'Elanna's own face cracked into a broad smile at the thought of the Captains section being inspected.

You're not going to apply your standards with the Captain? She challenged, already knowing the answer.

I shall apply such standards as are applicable for the section, Ma'am, he responded.

She will make your life hell afterwards! She opined.

I will simply be following the duties as defined in Regulations, Ma'am. I will of course report dissent to the authority of the day. 

She looked at him sharply, hoping for some sign of teasing from the tall soldier. His face was still deadpan. The authority of the day would be her as she was pretending to be the Captain. She wondered if she wouldn't regret the next four days for the rest of the voyage home.

She hid her worry with a crisp, Carry on Colonel! And fled.

The Colonel turned back to his Ensign. Now we won't be disturbed by the Captain, thinking she is head of Engineering. Where were we? He asked cheerfully.

  
  


Seven approached her new post with all the logicality that her Borg nature decreed. She first inspected the instruments that she was expected to work with, checking their function and performance. Then laid them out carefully in a cerebrally pleasing and efficient manner. Before settling back to read medical texts whilst waiting for her first customer.

He came rather quicker than she had anticipated. A crewman was transported to the surgical bench as a medical emergency, howling in agony.

Please state the nature of your medical emergency? She demanded coldly, emulating the Doctor.

The crewman looked at her incredulously. His leg was wet with blood. I dropped a Hydroponics Bed on my leg! He managed to hiss.

She approached the offending leg with some trepidation, reaching for a medical tricorder.

It is a deep cut, she announced reaching behind her. There is no other damage.

Her hand came back with a dermatalogical scalpel. She was at the point of using it before realising her mistake and throwing the device back on the tray behind her and picking up a growth stimulator instead.

The crewman watched nervously. Are you sure you can handle this, Ma'am? he asked cautiously.

If you wish I could summon my assistant? She offered calmly. The Colonel has a more direct method of dealing with cuts like this.

The crewman blanched. Most of the crew would, they had all heard about the Colonel's direct method of treating injuries. Even after the Doctors teachings, nobody was quite sure he had given up on them.

You'll do fine, Ma'am! He assured her hurriedly.

You will remain still, she demanded, starting the stimulator.

She demanded as he shook.

  
  


Tuvok, sensibly, did not try anything clever for his first meal in the Mess, trusting to soup to a recipe that Neelix had provided. He suspected that most of the crew would have hoarded replicator rations for the duration of his tenure. 

It was a suspicion that was largely correct. Though the whole Bridge crew did gravitate there, to moan about their progress.

We dropped a whole bed! The Captain moaned. I've got growing medium over every thing. Me included! At least Seven treated the crewman who got hurt properly. Even if she did try to cut him up with a laser scalpel first.

Everybody grinned.

You had better get it cleaned up, B'Elanna advised quickly. The Colonel said he was going to inspect after he had lunch!

He wouldn't. Would he? The Captain protested.

B'Elanna nodded. That's what he said when I went to inspect and before he threw me out of Engineering. My own department as well!

That brought a grin to the Captains face. Just don't try and second guess him, she recommended. Or you'll find that he has already third and fourth guessed your reactions.

How is it going elsewhere? The Captain asked curiously. We don't seem to find out much down there.

Pretty well I think, B'Elanna admitted. Tom is struggling in Astro-Metrics. I asked him for a full spectrum analysis and he can't even detect the next star system yet. I think Seven will hit him when she finds what he has done. The Colonel is busy sticking little notes to himself on the controls so he can find his way around. But otherwise I haven't heard anything serious.

Tuvok, have you heard anything? She called.

There have been a few incidents, Captain, Tuvok responded. I believe they have been in the nature of practical jokes. They were curtailed quickly.

I must say this is good soup, Tuvok, Chakotay praised. Can we persuade you to take on the catering duties?

That would leave Mr Neelix as the ships second officer, Tuvok pointed out calmly.

Perhaps not then, Chakotay grinned.

  
  


The Captain waited nervously for the arrival of the Colonel. She and her small staff had worked hard to clear the mess up after they spilt the tank. But she just knew he was going to find something.

They stiffened expectantly as Ensign Carver entered. 'Tion, for the Officer in Command! He declared.

Stand easy, The Colonel declared entering the room. I will go easy for the first inspection, he promised.

I will start with your logs, Captain. If you please.

Cautiously she handed them to him. One tank replanted and another dropped, he commented. Not an auspicious start for your first day, Captain?

No, Sir! The response felt so strange to her after all these years as the senior officer on the ship. But at least she had got that right, so far.

Was the crewman seriously hurt?

No, Sir!

You are improperly dressed for the duty, Captain, he criticised mildly returning the log to her. If you are required to get involved with operations. You should wear coveralls. An officers uniform should never be disgraced by unnecessary dirt.

Aye, Sir! She responded automatically, feeling like a fresh Ensign again.

Shall we see what is happening? he asked quietly.

She guided him along the rows of hydroponics tanks, briefing him on what was happening in each one, until she reached the one that she had planted earlier.

I don't know what these are, Sir! She admitted. There were instructions to plant them immediately. But nothing else was with them.

The Colonel grinned. Ensign Hemmark did what I suggested then, he commented. 

She questioned curiously.

Consider it your performance test, Captain, he offered cryptically. If you look after them, you will have something to take with you to show the world at large.

Now, I see you still have some cleaning up to do. So I will leave you to it.

Cleaning, Sir? She responded cautiously.

There is growing medium under the tanks. It shouldn't be there, Captain. It will encourage weeds. Make sure it isn't there for tomorrows dawn inspection, say 07:00.

He turned for the door and almost reached it before the Captain broke. She had never faced anything like the inspection she had just faced. Not on her ship, or even in the Academy, where they did inspect quarters. 

She hissed.

He heard her and turned around to face her. If you are referring to the fact I don't honestly recall who my parents were. Yes I am, he admitted candidly.

Or do you not agree with my findings, Captain? He asked. Or possibly think I have been too harsh?

I can assure you they are all to be found in Star Fleet Regulations! If you wish I could call for Security, so you may explain the faults in Regulations to the Captain? 

If you wish I could inspect to Queens Regulations? That would start with repairing the floor where you dropped the tank? He offered the choices to her quickly.

Equally quickly she shook her head. No, Sir! She responded. I apologise for my outburst!

Very good, Captain. Carry on, he agreed giving her a crisp salute before leaving. Taking the Ensign, who was struggling not to laugh at the Captains horror struck face, with him.

His smile was quickly removed from his face by the Colonel's next command.

Report here 07:00, Ensign. Bring white cotton gloves, he demanded.

You're not really going to do a dawn inspection? He asked incredulously.

That is what I said I would do. That is what we will do. The Captain has eighteen hours to clean Hydroponics. Plenty of time to get it perfect. You had better put some of the crew to cleaning Engineering as well. I want it sparkling before it is returned to Lieutenant Paris.

Besides she wanted to see how the other half lives, he added slyly.

  
  


Captain Janeway was exhausted by the time she reached her quarters. The cleaning of Hydroponics along with the necessary cleaning and replanting of the beds had taken her crew nearly 12 hours. It was now 02:00 and she would have to be back in the bay by 06:30 to be sure everything was still as perfect as she could make it by the time the Colonel arrived.

She wondered how many points he was trying to make, as she collapsed fully clothed on her bunk. That she had involved him in the exercise? It seemed unlikely, he never bore a grudge. Perhaps to show he was in command? There was never any doubt of that. Whether he was given responsibility or not, he tended to take it when necessary. Maybe to highlight the difference between his hitherto harsh regulations compared to the comparative looseness of Star Fleet? That was possible, she decided. But it was more likely to be him making sure she appreciated the difference between being a Star Fleet Captain as opposed to a junior officer in a junior post. 

Well she would have to prove to him that she could take it, then make sure she gave it back again afterwards, she decided as she fell asleep.

Her alarm woke her up, too early. Irritably she silenced the alarm then lay drowsing fitfully until she suddenly realised what she needed to do. Startled she sprang out of bed, then staggered as the stiffness hit her. A glance at the chronometer informed her she had less than twenty minutes to shower, change and inspect her new department before the Colonels dreaded inspection.

In alarm she ran for the shower, ripping her soiled uniform off as she went. A quick dive through the ultrasonic shower, a fevered donning of a fresh uniform and she was running for the turbo lift for the lower regions of the ship. A coverall tucked under her arm.

Do not run! A voice challenged her from behind.

A glance over her shoulder showed the Chakotay patrolling with a security detail.

I'm late! She protested breathlessly. The Colonel will probably have me on a charge if I'm not there on time!

Chakotay grinned sympathetically. Taking it seriously. Is he?

Janeway agreed, falling into the lift as the door opened behind her. And he seems to have singled me out for very special attention. And it's awful.

Out of sympathy Chakotay accompanied her to Hydroponics. It might provide an amusing story for later on.

Captain Janeway heaved a huge sigh of relief. The bay was still in the same condition as she had left it. Quickly she inspected her tanks, especially the one that had been deemed her proficiency test. Tiny tendrils could just be seen poking through the media. Some good news, she thought as Ensign Carver entered to announce the arrival of the Colonel.

Stand easy, Captain, he announced as he had the day before. She stiffened to attention, but resisted the overwhelming temptation to salute. It was she decided, her one small display of resistance. Though she doubted she would be able to keep it up if he commented.

Your crew aren't here yet?

The don't start until 08:00, Sir she said nervously.

Quite so, he agreed disapprovingly. Shall we start?

Quietly she followed him around the bay. He made a show of looking under the beds for missing medium. He didn't find any. The Captain suspected he wasn't looking too hard.

Not bad, Captain, he agreed grudgingly. It is to the agreed standards. Well done. 

All you need to do is keep it up for another couple of days, he grinned before adding. I shall look forward with interest to your reposte, Ma'am!

He saluted her and left.

That wasn't so bad, Chakotay confided.

You try working an eighteen hour shift in here! The Captain snapped. Nobody comes in. You don't hear what is going on and all you get is some bastard that complains it is dirty!

And the crew here have that every day, Chakotay pointed out.

She stopped her virile response just in time. I suppose they do, she admitted sheepishly. 

But I wish I knew what so special about the seed Hemmark put out for me to watch carefully, she commented peering at it carefully.

  
  


The second day proved to be less interesting than the first, as the crew began to settle into their unaccustomed posts. Tom Paris even managed to detect the end of the void they were sailing in. He reported it with great pride to B'Elanna. 

She thanked him with suitable aplomb.

Tuvok burnt the evening meal. But most of the crew effected not to notice. 

Captain Janeway managed to complete her Hydroponics tasks on schedule. She was now spending a few quiet minutes with B'Elanna.

We've got to unsettle the Colonel! She whispered conspiratorially. Then perhaps he'll leave me alone. He pointed out this afternoon I had messed up the planting of another tank. I've never done that to Hemmark!

I did once, B'Elanna commented. He almost bit my head off. Perhaps you could try that with the Colonel. He likes it when people argue with valid points.

She thought for a moment more. How about an Engineering Emergency Drill. We haven't run one for a while and they ought to learn how to deal with it?

The Captain grinned. It can be run safely? She demanded quickly.

I can get Harry and Tom to simulate it on their controls, B'Elanna assured her. We'll make sure we come out of warp, then if he over reacts and drops the core manually we won't be destroyed.

When can you set it up? The Captain asked, signalling her acceptance.

B'Elanna suggested, turning in her seat as the Colonel and Seven of Nine entered.

They appeared to be in some discussion and took the table next to them, the Colonel offering the two women a grin of acknowledgement. The Captain scowled back, then strained to hear what they were saying.

I'm not surprised she screamed, he said pulling a chair out for her. I don't think it likely that Ensign Maya is pregnant.

She is suffering from sickness in the morning, an elevated temperature and an imbalance of hormones, Seven protested. They are referred to as classic symptoms of early pregnancy.

Tuvok appeared and presented both with mugs of tea, then tactfully retreated again.

They can be the signs of almost anything, the Colonel pointed out. Probably Tuvoks meal last night, three of my crew had tummy gip this morning. And they complained about Neelix!

They matched the description in the medical manual, Seven persisted.

Maybe. But Virginal Birth only appears in one book and it isn't a medical one, the Colonel grinned.

Virgin Births? the Captain interrupted. Is this something I and the Doctor should be made aware of?

I believe Ensign Maya is pregnant, Seven announced honestly. She came to me describing classic symptoms of morning sickness. She became agitated.

And you don't think it likely? The Captain turned on the Colonel.

Ensign Maya is a Benzite, Captain, the Colonel pointed out. She is the only one aboard, not involved with anybody and isn't due to be for another couple of years. And as she freely admits, even without the breathing mask, has the sex appeal of a road accident to most humanoids. Quite a remarkable woman, though.

The reminder that she was a Benzite would have been enough for the Captain. It does seem unlikely, she admitted. 

Why were you inspecting the texts on reproduction, Seven? She asked mischievously.

I have viewed one hundred twenty three medical texts. Reproduction was only one of them, Seven protested defensively.

I'm sure it was, the Captain agreed. But perhaps not the most useful? She suggested getting up.

  
  


The display is showing some variation, Sir! A crewman reported dutifully to the Colonel the following day.

Carefully the Colonel peered at it, racking his brain to remember why it was so important. In the end he cheated, a little. He used his implant to ask his wife. 

Seven of Nine was actually quite glad of the interruption. Since her small error the day before she had had no patients. She suspected her small error had put a few off. Quietly she visualised the display before instructing her husband.

It's a minor imbalance in the anti-matter converters, he passed on. Ensign, try and find where it is failing.

Engineering to Captain, he called over the intercom. We have a minor problem, we appear to be suffering a short fall in anti-matter conversion. Can you reduce speed so we can catch up, please, Ma'am?

How much is the short fall? Came B'Elanna's enquiring voice.

It appears to be about 1% below usage, Ma'am. But I have nothing more positive until we can find the problem. 

It doesn't sound too bad. We'll drop from warp, she responded.

Five minutes later the ship lurched and klaxons sounded.

I only asked you to slow down, Ma'am! Not go into reverse! The Colonel shouted at his communicator.

There was no reply.

The warp core is overloading! Ensign Carver screamed in alarm.

Pull the plug on it then! The Colonel shouted back over the screaming alarms. Turn that bloody alarm off!

The computer isn't responding! Came an instant reply. It won't drop! The core is going to breach!

Warning. Core breach imminent. 60 seconds! A cold metallic warning voice announced.

Kill the supply from the converters! Carver you take the port supply. I'll take the Starboard. Prepare to eject the core, the Colonel responded leaping for a control panel and furiously pummelling pads.

No good! Carver responded. I can't shut down the converter.

Warning. Core breach imminent. 30 seconds!

Core ejection is out, Sir!

Manual ejection! Slip the latches!

Warning. Core breach imminent. 15 seconds!

I can't establish the Force Field, Sir! Still no response from the Computer!

Everybody out of Engineering! The Colonel roared. Seal the hatches. I'll fire the ejection charge! Keep working on the Force Field!

Warning. Core breach imminent. 10 seconds!

Time seemed to stand still as the automated warning counted down and he waited for the last moment before he hit the firing mechanism.

There was a great roaring of air, as the core slipped from its docking ring into space. It threatened to pull him after it. He held onto the console grimly, not wishing things to end like this, but he was loosing his grip as space demanded his presence. With the desperation of a drowning man, he held on as loose tools slipped after the core, several striking him heavily as they whirled past. A crewman that had been too slow to make the door before he fired the release came crashing past. Desperately he grabbed him, feeling his own tenuous grip of the console slip as he did so.

Suddenly it went silent and he fell to the floor with a crash. He lay there stunned and gasping for a few minutes, before struggling to his feet. To be met by the Engineering crew rushing in.

What happened? He gasped.

Emergency Force Field, Ensign Carver replied. It cut in as soon as the core left the ship. Are you all right, Sir?

What happened to the Core? He demanded, ignoring the concern being shown.

I don't know, Sir! Carver responded, pain showing on his face. It didn't explode!

Then find out. Please, Ensign! The Colonel demanded patiently, feeling the bumps on his head from the tools that had struck him.

We're already in hot water for dropping the core. The fact that it hasn't had the good grace to explode for us, isn't going to help any when explaining it to the Captain, he smiled grimly. Otherwise well done.

How is he? He asked of the crewman he had caught.

I think he's broken a few bones, perhaps something more, Sir!

He nodded. Do what you can for him. Then get him to Sick Bay.

Engineering to Bridge, he tried his communicator.

There was no reply.

Engineering to Sick Bay?

Again there was no reply.

He pointed to a crewman. Run up to the Bridge. Find out what has happened. Tell them we've dropped the Core and that communications to Engineering are out. Then come back post haste.

Somebody go and dig the Captain out of her hutch. I think we have an emergency for her, he added.

The two crewmen returned less than thirty seconds later. There are collision fields down on all corridors, they reported loudly. Panic showing.

Calm down, please. Are there any breaches? The Colonel questioned them quickly. How about the Jefferies Tubes?

All closed off, Sir, they responded.

No breaches showing on the panels, Sir! An Ensign responded.

And the Computer is still stuck up its own behind? He asked.

Yes, Sir!

Okay. Make sure emergency power is on line. You two, go and watch the force fields. Somebody is undoubtedly going to come and find out why we aren't talking to them, the Colonel commanded. When that is done then we can start looking for a way around the problem.

He sank to the floor as his own shock hit him. This was supposed to be a Fun' outing! He muttered humourlessly.

  
  


B'Elanna had not been unduly alarmed by the Colonel's request at first. She, Tom and Harry Kim had planned just such a simulation for the Colonel to handle, to see what he did. Thanks to the Captains solicitation yesterday it had been given the formal approval, even if the Colonel did not know about it.

As it was, he was responding correctly. Reporting the fault and requesting measures be taken to reduce the loss of efficiency, until it could be investigated. So she happily went along with his request. The fault he reported would not show on the Bridge systems for a while yet, as they were not serious. It was a credit to his doggedness not to screw the job up, that the developing fault had been picked up long before the regular engineering team would.

Kim reduce velocity to impulse, she commanded.

Aye, Captain! Kim responded with a grin.

It was probably the sudden deceleration that saved the ship. Just for a brief moment the screen flashed green, then black as the ship lurched, sending them sprawling.

What happened? She demanded shakily, picking herself up again.

I don't know! Kim responded. The instruments aren't responding.

Sensors are down, the Doctor reported. Emergency force fields have come up on all decks.

Main power has just gone, he added, as his display flashed more messages at him.

Bridge to Engineering. Respond! She demanded quickly.

She received static.

Bridge to Chakotay, Respond? She tried again.

Bridge to Captain?

Bridge to anybody? She tried for a fourth time in desperation.

Still no reply.

Neelix tried his communicator, similarly. With the same results.

There's nothing showing on the screen either, Lieutenant, he admitted in alarm.

Go and find what happened, she demanded quickly.

Doctor shut down the Force Fields.

I can't get to them. The Computer won't let me in, the Doctor responded unhappily.

The lift is stuck, Neelix reported. I'll try the Jefferies Tube, he added encouragingly. He didn't fancy the long climb from the Bridge to Engineering. But he had to do what was ordered.

Not that he got far. He managed to open the hatch into the emergency access tube, but found an Emergency Force Field in the way as soon as he entered.

It meant that the four occupants on the Bridge were cut off from the rest of the ship. Just as the Colonel and Engineering were. Neither knowing what was happening else where.

  
  


Elsewhere on the ship there was no immediate concern yet. Most put the lurch down to an inexperienced helmsman. Even the Emergency Force Fields that had sprung up, whilst a hindrance, were not too alarming. Somebody in Engineering had pressed the wrong button, they decided. Such is the beauty of not knowing what is happening. But it left Tuvok, with a spilt pan of lunch time soup and six crewmen complaining about the lack of lunch, not unusual. Tom Paris, picking himself up after crashing into the Delaney twins, not that he was complaining about that. Captain Janeway, peering concernedly at Her' special vat. And Seven of Nine picking up instruments from the Sick Bay floor. All confident that if there was a real problem, they would be called.

Seven of Nine was the first to have an inkling as to the seriousness of the ships plight as she felt the Colonel trying to contact her.

Seven, I think we have a problem, she felt.

I've had to drop the Warp Core because it was overloading, he explained in her mind. Since then we've found that almost every force field on the ship has sprung up and all comms are out. I can't even contact the Bridge to find out what caused the lurch.

You can deactivate the force fields, she suggested.

Tried it. The computer is playing up as well! He responded, she could feel his frustration. I'm open to other ideas?

I will investigate the extent I may explore the ship, she responded.

he responded. 

If you can get to our quarters then you may find the Cathor Sabre useful, he suggested as an after thought.

Seven of Nine turned for the door and set off for the Turbo Lift. She was brought up short by a force field less than ten metres from the door in one direction. Carefully she tried the other, making nearly fifty before being checked again. Naomi Wildman was standing on the other side of it.

What has happened? She asked plaintively.

Naomi Wildman. State your status and freedom of movement, Seven of Nine demanded quickly, stemming any further complaints.

I'm not hurt, the girl answered uncertainly. But I can't get to the Holodeck. The lift isn't working and the corridor is blocked by force fields. 

What has happened? She asked again.

Seven of Nine looked concerned for a few moments. I am uncertain, she admitted finally. There has been an accident. You will wait there while I deactivate the force field.

She turned to the wall console and tried to terminate the force field, with no effect. She glared at the panel for several moments before turning back to Naomi.

There is a problem with this control panel, she announced. I will attempt to summon assistance.

She did not bother with her communicator, but raised the Colonel via her implant.

He listened to her patiently, then made his own suggestions.

If I cut all power to decks 11 and 12, would that isolate the core? Sort of pull the plug and let it restart? He asked. I seem to remember that was a much favoured trick from those that knew about computers.

Such an action would cause major damage to the core, she retorted.

Seems pretty buggered already, he pointed out sourly.

There is also a self contained emergency power supply to the Computer Core, she continued, ignoring his observation. The two decks would be without life support for too long waiting for the emergency supply to fail.

he responded. But I think we need to get the computer to talk to us, before we can find out what is wrong.

Your assumption is logical, she agreed.

So who aboard can restart the damned thing?

She thought for a moment, before offering a list. Lieutenant B'Elanna Paris. Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok all have the necessary clearance.

If it isn't talking to them already, then I don't think clearance is going to matter much, he commented. Who can give it the computer equivalent of a kick in the knackers to crank it up again?

Lieutenant Paris, she responded firmly.

She is eleven decks above us and I'm told the shield up in the gods are the strongest on the ship. Could you do the job, if I can make a path? He asked.

I do not have the security clearance to enter the Computer Core, she pointed out.

If I can get passed all the damned force fields, it will take more than security clearance to keep us out the core, he promised. See you later. I'm going to dig the Captain out first.

She shrugged mentally then settled on the floor. As much to keep Naomi company as anything else. 

The Colonel is on his way to release the force field, she announced mildly. We will wait for his arrival.

If you were still a Borg you could walk through the force fields? Naomi pointed out.

That is correct, Seven responded neutrally. However that part of my system has been deactivated. I would need assistance to reactivate them.

  
  


The Colonel settled back wondering how he was going to keep his promise of collecting Seven of Nine and the Captain. 

Mr Carver, he called suddenly. What are the chances of cutting our way around the force fields? He asked mildly.

Not good. Sir! The ensign responded. There are power conduits and all sorts in the walls. If we hit one of those we would be blown sky high!

How about punching holes in the walls near the emitters and disconnecting them?

I'm not sure I know how, Sir.

The Colonel grunted, getting up with a new idea in his mind. Good time to learn then. Ensign. Lets have a look at one shall we. But blow us up and I'll have your guts for garters.

Together they opened the panel near the force field in the Engineering corridor and peered in.

I can try a sonic probe in the power coupling? Carver suggested quietly.

The Colonel grunted and made way for him. 

The shield shimmered and faded.

Not bad, The Colonel accepted. I thought you didn't know about these things? 

The Ensign blushed in embarrassment. I'm learning, Sir!

The Colonel grinned. You can carry on learning. Start working your way towards the Computer Room and Deck 5. We'll have to work the magic in the Jefferies tubes to get to the other decks though, the lifts are out. In the mean time I'm going to rescue the Captain.

With that he pulled a tube cover away from it's housing near the floor and squeezed through. 

The emergency tube, designed as a safety escape system, linked all decks and departments on the ship. But it was also dark and claustrophobic and a close fit for anybody as broad shouldered as the Colonel as he crawled its length on his hands and knees. 

Fifteen minutes of slow crawling brought him to what he was looking for, the main shaft leading to decks thirteen and fourteen. There was a force field across the entry.

He pulled out a probe, similar to the one he had watched the Ensign using, and probed the power inlet as he had watched the Ensign doing.

It didn't work.

He cursed under his breath. Technology and he did not get on well.

Still cursing he reached for his sheathed knife, positioned it against the side of the emitter and punched the old blade through the casing. 

The shield failed in a flash and a shower of sparks.

Much better! he grunted and and began the two deck decent towards hydroponics. 

A second field blocked his way as he descended. Isolating deck 13 it blocked the vertical tube. Approaching it was more difficult. The emitter was below him and there was no convenient stage to squat upon so that he could attack the unit. With some struggling he managed to turn himself over in the narrow passage so that he was now facing downwards, the toes of his boots hanging in the ladder rungs of the vertical tube. It was with this head down attitude he approached the force field again and again attacked it with his knife.

The jolt almost knocking him free. Desperately he spread his feet and hands hard against the sides of the walls to prevent himself falling.

More clambering allowed him to pour himself into the tube that served deck 13. There he rested for a few minutes, allowing the giddiness from hanging head first to subside. 

Finally feeling more composed he continued his slow descent, worried about how many more times he would have to repeat the acrobatics.

In the event the junction to deck 14 proved to be unprotected. Just as well, the Jeffereies Tube at this point was in complete darkness. Carefully he checked the sizes of the outlets with a hurried wave of his hand before committing himself to what seemed to be the largest. 

Coming to the end of the passage he was faced with a grill. He examined it and peered through to try and identify his location. It appeared to be the corridor outside Hydroponics. Obviously he had missed another passage somewhere, but the result was adequate.

Carefully he probed the grills fixings, then thumped it hard in a corner, pushing it out of place before striking it again in the opposite corner. It clattered to the ground and he slid thankfully out. The journey had taken nearly 45 minutes.

The Captain had become more than a little bored at the lack of information finding its way to her in the forgotten depths of Hydroponics. She wanted to know what had caused the bump that had so nearly unsettled all her hard work. Puzzled by the lack of response from her communicator she had left Hydroponics to investigate further.

She was about to re-enter Hydroponics after finding the Collision Fields in place when the Colonel slid out of the duct beside her.

What are you doing? She demanded in surprise.

Chimney Boy, Ma'am, he panted good humouredly, and examining his now filthy uniform.

It isn't generally expected for anybody to inspect the Jefferies Tubes, even in your regulations, Colonel, She commented in amusement. What are you doing really?

I was looking for you, Ma'am. We have a problem. Quickly he explained what had occurred.

The only person on the ship, outside Engineering, that is talking to me at the moment is Mrs Nine. Then she doesn't get much choice, he finished.

And you think that the computer is the cause of the problem? She queried.

I don't know, he admitted. But until it starts talking to us again, we can't find out what is happening.

How are you going to get me to the computer? She demanded. I'm not crawling around in the ducts like you!

It should be a lot easier, he promised. It is all up from her. Besides you ought to know how to use this thing better than I do, he handed her the probe. So there is no need for brute force.

She sighed, taking the probe. Come on then, she agreed heading for the hatch. Just how much of my ship have you broken?

  
  


Back on the Bridge, B'Elanna Paris shook off the last vestiges of pretending to be a Captain in charge of a ship, or even having any control over it, and approached the Jefferies Tube with the look of an angry engineer.

Harry give me a hand here! She demanded. We need to get past the shields. Then we can reroute power away away from the rest of the shields from the the main EPS relays on each deck.

Born from long experience and intimate knowledge of the ships systems, she didn't approach the shield emitter. Instead she attacked a control box next to it.

A brief struggle ensued as she and Kim wrestled the lid off, then a matter of moments as she pulled various relays out. The force field died quietly.

Neelix look after things! She called over her shoulder and set off down the Jefferies Tube.

She was not surprised to find Tuvok struggling with the force field outside the Mess. Rapidly they briefed each other on what little they knew.

We must attempt to get to Engineering and find the Captain, Tuvok decreed, taking command. 

It's going to take time, B'Elanna warned retreating to the Jefferies Tube again.

Deck 5 they met with Seven of Nine. She had also had some success with the force field that separated her from Naomi Wildman and they were now sat together in the Sick Bay.

How is it going here? B'Elanna demanded.

I have been in communication with the Colonel in Engineering, Seven responded.

I thought you might, B'Elanna grinned. Do they know what happened.

Negative. They had to drop the Warp Core. The ship is currently on Emergency Power. The Colonel is attempting to recover the Captain. He requested I should remain here until he arrived. Then he wishes me to administer a Kick to the Knackers' and restart the computer system.

B'Elanna grinned again. He has such a delicate way with words, she commented.

Tuvok demanded, interrupting their private joke.

There is one casualty in Engineering. He is reported as being Seven of Nine announced.

A clatter from outside the Sick Bay brought them to their feet, as a rather puffed Ensign Carver appeared.

Lieutenant Colonel Samuels compliments! He announced. He requests assistance in the Computer Room.

  
  


They found Captain Janeway and the Colonel standing outside the Computer Room door.

It won't let me in! The Captain fumed.

The Colonel was examining the door suspiciously. Before I do something that destroys it. Can we cut power to the door, Lieutenant? He asked mildly.

I can cut the power, sure, she answered. But it will lock shut. It's a security feature.

The Colonel grunted his annoyance and produced a number of plastic cards and a heavy pry bar. Permission to destroy the door, Ma'am? He enquired.

The Captain nodded uncertainly. If you think you can do it, she agreed. It's supposed to be a high security door.

So are the force fields, Ma'am, he pointed out.

Quickly he probed the door jams with the plastic cards, leaving them stuck in place in strategic places.

I'm just jamming the catches open, he explained to their questioning looks. It's the only thing I ever used credit cards for at home. Breaking in to places I wasn't supposed to be. 

Satisfied he rammed the bar into the small gap between the wall and the door. With the mechanical locks out the way it should only be the magnets holding it shut.

Locating it securely he started to lever, bracing his foot against the door jam. Nothing seemed to happen for a few moments. He strained again at the bar, harder this time. Both feet against the jamb using his legs for additional power. The chords of his neck muscles were clearly showing, his eyes shut from the effort.

There was a groan from the door, then a cracking noise and the door slid easily, depositing the Colonel on his back. He lay there stunned as his muscles screamed at him from the effort.

Talk of irresistible force and immovable objects, the Captain muttered.

Seven look after him. B'Elanna, Tuvok, let's get the computer working. I don't think we're out of the woods yet! She announced stepping over the prostrate Colonel.

Don't you just love a display of brute force and ignorance, the Colonel groaned to Seven as she worked a tricorder over him.

The display was impressive, she admitted, starting to run a regenerator over his back. But you have torn several muscles and ligaments. They will have to be treated in Sick Bay, by the Doctor.

The threat goaded him to try and get to his feet. Not on your life! He hissed. Just help me to my feet. I'll get bye!

I fail to see the reason for your continued distrust of the Doctor, she scolded. You are damaged and require medical treatment.

I don't distrust the Doctor! He hissed in agony, his pulled and torn muscles screaming at him as he tried to move. At least, no more than the medical profession and computers, he gasped, finally managing a sitting position.

he continued. I'm not pregnant, I trust your medical abilities and I may still be needed. He offered an arm to her so that she could pull him up.

She wrapped his arm over her shoulders so as to support him and they limped after the Captain.

It still isn't responding, the Captain complained. B'Elanna, you and Seven will have to fix it. I'm going to the Bridge.

She turned and noticed Seven was still holding the Colonel up. How is he? She demanded.

Still on duty, Ma'am, he responded quickly.

He needs medical treatment, Seven corrected him sternly. But he refuses to see the Doctor.

Still scared of him, the Captain smiled grimly. Well by the look of him he won't be able to get to sickbay for a while. So you had better do what you can with him until then.

The computer is completely screwed! B'Elanna cursed. Even the backup seems to have got stuck. We will have to power it down and restart, but it is going to take hours!

I don't think we are going anywhere very quickly, Lieutenant, the Colonel commented mildly.

You don't understand, B'Elanna persisted. Without Warp power we will have to evacuate the whole deck for a power down. Then I'm not sure what damage it will cause.

Ah! I see! In that case the sooner we evacuate, the sooner you can start? The Colonel suggested brightly.

I need to check Engineering first. See what other damage you've done, B'Elanna claimed sarcastically.

I haven't, the Colonel started to protest. Then thought better of it.

I'll follow you, he sighed. Better get it over and done with.

  
  


There was a general officers meeting in an observation room on Deck 5 two hours later. The Captain would dearly have wished to hold it in the Conference Room off the Bridge. But the climb to deck five had taken the Colonel nearly thirty minutes of agonising effort. Despite Seven of Nines dogged persistence treating his injuries, he was still in some discomfort and limping. And she felt a desperate need for his solid presence. 

During that time, Tom Paris had been rescued from Astrometrics and Chakotay had been found with a security detail on Deck 7 by B'Elanna's Engineering Team.

She regarded her assembled officers carefully. All looked nervous, except perhaps the Colonel and Seven of Nine. Then he probably was not properly aware yet of how serious their plight was. She envied him that comfort. As for Seven, it was a matter of pride and faith in the abilities of her husband to never be beaten. She hoped it was not going to be misplaced.

She took a deep breath. I shouldn't have to remind you we are in grave danger, she started. We have no warp drive to power the ship. No computer to control it for us. We don't know if we are moving and if we are, we don't know where we are going. We don't even know what went wrong. Apart from the windows we don't even know what is outside!

B'Elanna, what is the status in Engineering?

Every thing seems to be working, she admitted. The Emergency Power systems are all running properly, so they should be okay for perhaps, a fortnight. There is no Warp core of course. So until we can retrieve it I can't improve the power situation. The Colonel set some of his people to stripping the converters to find out why there was a power overload. But we won't have an answer to that for another couple of hours.

Why was the core dropped? Chakotay demanded quickly.

The system claimed it was going into a power overload, the Colonel put in. We didn't know how badly screwed the computer was, so there wasn't a lot of choice. I couldn't find any other way of killing it!

None of the controls would have worked, she admitted. I'm inclined to agree.

This is not the time for a witch hunt! The Captain declared forcefully. If there is any blame to be laid, it is mine. I went along with the idea to have us moved to other departments and for an emergency drill. It left us with the wrong people in the wrong stations.

Now the Computer? She continued.

We will have to turn it off and restart it, B'Elanna admitted. But that could take a week and will leave several of the lower decks uninhabitable for that time. Some of the Gel Packs look as though they've been blitzed. Seven thinks she can rescue much of the data though.

I have started recording the databanks to Borg data nodes, Seven agreed. I should be able to secure approximately 80% of the data amassed.

Kim demanded. Without the computer, the data is not recoverable.

I am modifying the nodes to link directly with the neural cells, Seven explained neutrally.

Any offers as to what we do while we are waiting? The Captain demanded, eyeing the Colonel expectantly.

If you are looking at me for a sudden flash of inspiration, or a set of log tables, you are out of luck, Ma'am, the Colonel stated, catching her expectant look. I'm fresh out of the first and I never understood the second. 

She sighed, she had hoped for another flash of inspiration. We need to know what is outside and get the core back. Chakotay detail teams for outside work. We will have to manhandle the Warp core back into place. 

Perhaps I should run an oily rag over the windows while they are doing it? The Colonel suggested. Do you wish me to volunteer, Ma'am? Or will you save my blushes and request me to go?

She smiled at him. You are too badly hurt to go outside and I hope it will not be necessary. Not after the last time. But Thank You for the offer. You had better have treatment completed by the Doctor!

I want a full report of what happened in four hours! Dismissed. She decreed.

I'm sorry Colonel! She apologised as the others trooped out of the room. This was not supposed to happen!

He looked at her hard. Running a drill on a department is within the prerogative of the Officer Commanding, Ma'am. Running it on a comparatively untrained and unsupervised crew was dumb, especially if you wanted to get back at me! He growled. As it is, Lieutenant Paris complemented my team for their correct responses and by some fluke we are still here. Just remember next time we might not be so lucky! I had expected more elegance from you, Ma'am!

She was surprised that he had not responded more harshly. If you wanted to take it up more formally you would be within your rights? She offered.

What would that achieve? He asked mildly. You are the senior officer here! It would be unfair to ask your subordinates to try you and I will remind you of it when necessary. No, Ma'am, you were within your rights to run the drill. Besides I think this is going to live with you for a lot longer than a ruined career for a misjudgement.

He saluted, turned on his heel and limped out, heading as commanded for the Sick Bay.

  
  


Staff conference was reconvened in the Conference Room four hours as decreed by the Captain. The Colonel was missing this time, still undergoing repair from the Doctor.

She started with the missing Soldiers absence. How long before he is available again, Seven? She demanded.

The Doctor wishes him to recuperate for two days, Seven reported. I do not think he will comply.

She smiled grimly. Do what you can to keep him off his feet, she suggested. He might listen to you.

The Warp Core? She continued.

Back in place and being hooked up, B'Elanna reported. The injectors have been reassembled. There was no fault found, as expected from a drill. No other damage.

She nodded thankfully. A forced manual core ejection often wrecked the whole matter/anti-matter injection system. They had been luckier than they had any right to be.

The Computer?

I've found a way to restart without powering down! Kim announced proudly. I can kill the power between the backup power unit and the main computer core. It can be completed in about eight hours after we have main power.

She nodded. Anything as to why it failed?

There is a fault in a number of Gel Packs, Seven of Nine announced. It created a bug' in the simulation routines. It seems probable that this caused the mass failure. I have replaced the worst affected, however we do not have sufficient spare packs to replace all those that display at fault. We will have to grow replacements. The error is wide spread in the control system. It also caused the 'Lurch' during failure.

That is going to take months! Even if we can do it! B'Elanna exclaimed.

113 days, 14 hours, Seven admitted. I have used Borg maturation technology to build a production facility. Perhaps we should reactivate Corporal Miller to tend to the damaged packs until they can be replaced?

He was deleted, the Captain exclaimed. I distinctly remember demanding him removed!

Wasn't he? She asked less certainly, as Seven of Nine glanced coyly at her.

I copied his programme to a data node before deletion, Seven commented. I find he is useful if I require an insight into the Colonel's feelings.

It would help, B'Elanna interrupted immediately.

The Captain nodded thoughtfully, the Colonel's Computer Cracker would undoubtedly be helpful in the circumstances. He had rebuilt most of the ships computer systems after the Doctor's malaise. The only problem was that the holographic soldier was programmed as a member of the Colonel's regiment. As such, he followed the orders of the Colonel, not hers. 

The sudden thought struck her. The Colonel was probably a better lead to follow than hers, given who had put them in this position.

I don't want any of the Colonel's back doors' left in! She agreed finally. I shall talk to the Colonel about it. In the mean time get the systems back on-line.

  
  


The Captain went to see the Colonel as soon as the meeting had completed. He was laying on the a Sick Bay cot with a scanner over the top of him, looking thoroughly Brassed'.

I didn't think you were that badly hurt! Captain Janeway commented.

The bastard wanted me to lay still, the Colonel complained. Seems to think I might runaway and do something silly. Please, let me out!

I'll arrange that, in a few minutes she agreed amiably. In the mean time. I've come to eat humble pie.

When I had Corporal Miller removed from the system, it seems Seven made a copy of him, she explained. The Computer is not going to be very healthy for a while, so I would like him to nurse it for us?

He was never very good at first aid, Ma'am, the Colonel commented. And I assume you wish him to come directly under your control?

She nodded carefully, this was being easier than she expected.

If you will remove this damned thing then I'll write out an order for you, he suggested.

Thank You, she breathed, hitting the controls to retract the scanner.

Carefully he sat up and wrote on a page from his notebook before handing it to her. I'm sorry, Ma'am. But this is the British Army. Orders of this nature need to be written and signed, he apologised.

She read it quickly.

From Lieutenant Colonel A Samuels, Officer Commanding First Battalion Her Majesties 60th Rifles.

To Lance Corporal C Miller 396,

Orders in pursuance of HM Army Regulations.

Until further notice. Be deployed by Captain Kathryn Janeway, Officer Commanding the Vessel USS Voyager, in such activities not regarded as contrary to Her Majesty's interest.

In the absence of said Officer, command will be returned to Senior British Officer forthwith.'

  
  


It's very limited, she opined.

He'll do everything you will need him to do, Ma'am, he responded mildly. He may be in your computer, but he is still one of my men. I am responsible for him. Regulations prevent me simply giving him to any Tom, Dick and Harry. I won't simply let him run amok.

She nodded. I suppose he is. But remember he's just a hologram.

So is the Doctor. Sometimes I am required to think of him as a real being as well, Ma'am. What is good for the goose is good for the gander, he responded.

She grinned. What do you suggest I do until I can activate him to give him this order? She asked.

The Colonel grinned back. You could do worse than make sure Hydroponics is still fit for inspection, he suggested. The crisis is over. If only because there is nothing that can be done! So I might decide to appear.

She grimaced at the thought and turned to go.

You might like to tuck me in again, he suggested. Until you can get me out of the clutches of the Doctor?

She grinned again and reactivated the scanner as he lay back. I'll get Seven of Nine to release you, she said and fled.

  
  


Eight hours later she was stood on Holodeck 2, waiting for Seven of Nine to complete the downloading of the holographic soldier. Between them Harry Kim and Seven of Nine had finally managed to get the computer operational. But it was running at less than fifty percent efficiency. They could move, see where they were going and control the ships systems. But they had dared not try to reload anything else. Now they would be wholly reliant upon the hologram to improve the situation.

The thin little man that she was putting her faith in appeared before her and saluted the same way the Colonel did. She grinned sheepishly at him. He was as she remembered him. Still dressed in the green of the Colonel's regiment and still wore the long sword bayonet. There were still gaps in his mouth where teeth had been lost and he still looked as honest as the most crooked Ferrengi Trader she had ever met.

Corporal Miller? She said.

Captain Janeway, Ma'am! He responded guardedly, looking around for his commanding officer.

Colonel Samuels gave me this to give to you, she said quickly, handing the green clad soldier the paper that the Colonel had given her. I'm sorry he isn't here to give you the orders in person, but the Doctor is treating him and won't let him go just yet!

The Corporal read the paper before handing it back. You would have thought that the Army would have updated itself by now, he moaned. Slips of paper are so easy to forge! 

Not that anybody could duplicate his writing, he added with a grin. Certainly not here. Your orders, Ma'am?

I think I had better let Seven of Nine explain what we need, she said quickly, nodding to Seven.

He turned towards Seven. Are you still the Colonel's lady, Miss? He asked politely.

He is my collective, she responded in amusement.

The little Corporals face cracked into a gap toothed smile. You beat the stupid old bugger! He crowed. How, Ma'am? You must have done something pretty spectacular to get him!

It was spectacular, Corporal Miller, the Captain interrupted. But our current problem is serious. Please get on with it!

The Corporal sighed dutifully. How can I help you, Miss?

Quietly Seven of Nine explained the nature of the problem, to the attentive Corporal. When she finished, he cracked another crisp salute. I'll fix it immediately, Ma'am! He announced confidently and disappeared.

He loves the Colonel, doesn't he? Captain Janeway commented to Seven as they left the Holodeck.

She queried. Is Love' the correct terminology?

He cares deeply for him, the Captain tried to explain.

I believe we all care for him, Seven commented wryly. I have observed he seems to be unaware of the danger he places himself in. It brings on the desire to protect and care for him.

Especially in Seven of Nine, the Captain mused. Well the Doctor should have released him by now. So you had better go and look after him. Good Night and Thank You!

  
  


Two days later, the Captain received a call in her Ready Room to attend Hydroponics. A little surprised and uncertain as to what to expect she made her way down to the lower reaches of the ship. She was unsurprised to find the Colonel there, but a little more surprised to find Chakotay and B'Elanna there also.

I thought you might be interested to hear the results of your test, Ma'am. I invited Lieutenant Paris and Commander Chakotay along to witness the score, the Colonel announced.

Mr Hemmark has advised me that you have paid at least one visit a day to see to your test bed. So you can't claim it is of no importance.

Tell me the worst, she agreed guardedly.

Mr Hemmark? The Colonel prompted.

The Ensign turned away for a moment, then back bearing an armful of cut flowers. We had an eighty percent flowering, he announced. Handing the bundle into the Captains surprised hands. I reckons that makes it a Pass' Sir!

Dumb struck, the Captain could only stand and gaze at the flowers. Tears starting to sting her eye's as Chakotay and B'Elanna laughed.

You chased me around for three days. For this! You Bastard! She hissed, desperately trying to blink away the tears.

I told you before M'am. I am a bastard, in the true meaning of the word. But I chased you around, because there is nobody else on the ship who could getaway with it and you wanted to experience what others lived with. The test was my idea, the flowers were Mr Hemmark's, we thought you might appreciate them, he finished with an open smile.

Thank You! She whispered. I do, But.. She tailed off and turned away quickly, to have her arm taken gently by Chakotay. He led her away, his arm around her waist. 

I think that went quite well, the Colonel mused. Thank You, Sir, for your indulgence. I owe you a favour. Especially if you can keep her supplied with a bunch for a while.

The elderly Ensign grinned at him. It was worth it to see her struck dumb for once, he admitted. I could use a hand with some new beds tomorrow?

The Colonel suggested.

Aye, Sir!

  
  


I really fell into that one! The Captain mused as Chakotay and B'Elanna escorted her into her room. All that toil he put me through, to grow flowers for myself! And I didn't know!

He even insisted I went and looked after them after we stopped playing charades!

As you said. He doesn't bear a grudge! Even after what we did to him! B'Elanna laughed. And it was a lovely idea. He added some of the Fun', you and Neelix wanted back into it!

I suppose so, she agreed uncertainly. But what do I do with them?

I'll find some vases, Chakotay promised. I agree with B'Elanna. He hasn't taken your drill personally. And you passed his test. The matter is closed for him.

I'll talk to him later, she decided, collapsing in her chair.

I've got to get back to Engineering, before I see Tom, B'Elanna declared.

Take some of these with you, the Captain suggested, quickly gathering a generous handful for her Engineer. There are too many, so you may as well take some for your quarters! And you passed the test as well as anybody.

B'Elanna took the proffered bouquet and left with a broad smile.

It's going to go around the ship like wildfire, Chakotay commented impishly. It may have as big an effect as the whole changing places thing!

We are going to have to find something to do for him, the Captain sighed. I know we put him and Seven together and they love each other. But there must be something else?

Together they sat and pondered the problem.

  
  


Seven of Nine examined the suspect computer gel packs and confessed herself satisfied with the little Corporals work. They were still performing at less than 80% efficiency. But the Corporal had patiently reworked the ships computers, isolating the damaged memory and rerouting systems. It wasn't going to be 100% reliable, he had warned her. But everything worked. And the ship was underway again. Finishing off by shutting the last access hatch, she turned to her husband.

You have an appointment, she said bluntly.

Have I? He asked in genuine bemusement.

Corporal Miller, has recreated a holodeck programme. He claims it is his wedding present to us. We will go and test it. I have neglected you for the last few days, I shall make amends, she announced, taking his arm and leading him away.

  
  


They entered Holodeck 2 to find it was dusk on a tropical beach, the waves gently crashing onto the shimmering white sand. 

I'm going to break the sordid little runts neck! The Colonel hissed.

You claimed this was a romantic setting, Seven announced. I wish you to help me Leap the Waves'!

He grinned sheepishly. I suppose it is. But we haven't anything to wear!

It will not be necessary. We are alone. The Holodeck has not been released to the crew, we will not be disturbed, she assured him, leading him toward the sea and pulling his jacket off.

Reluctantly at first, he followed her lead, then more readily as he divested his boots and trousers, as she released her suit, before dragging her into the breakers.

There, waist high in water, she turned on him, pulling him closer, her mouth seeking his. There teeth clashing, before they stumbled back to the edge and collapsed to the firm sand, water still breaking over them.

What have I done to deserve you? The Colonel whispered gently. I hope I never wake from this dream!

  
  


As they lay there, a silent figure entered the deck and spied them laying together on the beach, in the moonlight. It watched for a full five minutes, before guiltily turning away and leaving the two lovers together.

She blinked momentarily in the bright light of the corridor, before suddenly feeling very lonely she let herself into Holodeck 1.

Computer. Activate Corporal Miller! The Captain demanded.

He pronounced, appearing before her and saluting.

She smiled. What can I do to make amends to the Colonel? She asked quietly.

Amends for what, Ma'am? The Corporal asked quizzically.

Everything I've made him do and put him through!

The Corporal paused for a moments thought. The stupid sod thinks he owes you more, he opined. You've been next door? He asked.

She nodded in embarrassment.

Just let him stay and keep Mrs Nine happy, he suggested. She is the first person he has ever taken anything from willingly.

Why do people follow him? She asked.

Perhaps it's because he trusts them, he suggested evenly. And doesn't ask for more than they can give.

Tell me more about him? She implored.

Where would you like me to start? He asked, producing two chairs.

From the beginning!

He sighed and sat down, signalling for her to do the same. I've only been with him ten years. But I will tell you how we met and he Rescued' me? He suggested. You will get the gist of what I think about him.

She nodded expectantly and sat spell bound as the Colonel's small Corporal told her about how the Colonel saved him.

  
  


  
  


Revision 13

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/warpspeed/



	2. Sargasso Delta

1-22 Sargasso Delta Sargasso Delta 

_Plagued by Computer failures things go from bad to worse as Voyager continues limping through the the void. Nerves and tempers are running high. Tom and B'Elanna have a falling out and the ship is swamped by Seaweed'. The crew must work without the ever present computer to find a solution. Tuvok partakes in the Colonels confessional..._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The story line and the Colonel are my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail [story@rgower.plus.com][1]._

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start with The Colonel._

_This story is rated PG on the UK sensors ratings_

_©R Gower 2001_

  


Captain Janeway inspected the contents of a new tray she had quietly installed in her quarters before dropping heavily into an easy chair.

The tray contained growing medium and seeds she had begged off of Ensign Hemmark. After he and the Colonel had pulled their stunt of having her grow them as a test of her Hydroponics skills, she had realised she had quite enjoyed the relaxed challenge. Less surprising perhaps, she had enjoyed the results. Her quarters had been almost a riot of colour for three weeks afterwards as Hemmark had slowly reaped the results and sent them to her quarters. Now they had finished, she missed them and the scent that filled the previously spartan room.

She wiped her tired hands over her tired face, there hadn't been much time to enjoy her flowers or sleep for the last few weeks. The tray had been her one and only luxury, time for its care snatched between panics.

"Captains Log!" She sighed. 

She was grabbing a few minutes for herself and to try to bring her log up to date. The previous month had been a never ending succession of minor mishaps, irritating failures and near catastrophes. Their had been nine more today, ranging from the minor, a replicator failure in the Mess, to the major, a total failure of the shield matrix. There had also been three fights and four other disagreements that could have ended up a lot more serious if she had not turned up at the right moment. She seemed to be spending all her time running between Bridge and trouble spot, damping out the flames that were forming. She suspected that there were others that she did not know about. All around her, tempers were now running high. She noted that in her log.

Everything that was going wrong could be attributed directly to what had now been positively identified as a virus in the Gel Packs that controlled the Computers Neural Network, causing frequent seizures in the computer systems and false alarms. Such a major failing of the ships computer was, in her experience, almost unheard of in a Star Ship, certainly not in one that survived.

Where the virus had come from nobody was sure. The commonly held belief was that it occurred by accident, when the system was reprogrammed to cope with the new engines on Cathor. It had certainly could not be accredited to the Cathors as a hostile act, of that they were certain. Harry Kim and B'Elanna Paris had carried out the reprogramming themselves.

Corporal Miller, the Colonel's small holographic computer wizard, was working hard to keep the systems running and identify and isolate the virus. She gave him full marks for effort, even if she did not, every twelve hours a report appeared on her screen listing the changes he had made to the system. It looked as if he was fighting a losing battle as the damage in the individual packs grew. She had been forced to take the Holodecks off-line a week ago, simply to give the Corporal space to work his damage control. 

They had dropped the Warp Core three times because of false alarms promising imminent catastrophe and they had cut the reinstallation time to under three hours, from the normal eight. It was not a record she was particularly proud of. The fear of another warning demanding the core to be dropped, now prevented them holding speeds in excess of Warp, slowing their progress even further. Not that they really knew where they were going at the moment. Seven of Nine had not been able to complete a long range scan for three weeks and they were now flying blind.

She was willing to admit she was scared. Something that she had been several times since they had marooned themselves in the Delta Quadrant, but not like this. 

This was different. 

Until now the things she relied upon, the ship and its systems, had always worked. They had been damaged, certainly, but they had always been repairable. Now those essential and dependable services were failing. The things she took for granted- knowing where she was, unlimited coffee from the replicator, even the shower, they had all failed repeatedly at some point or other, sometimes all at the same time.

With B'Elanna Paris and Corporal Miller's help, Seven of Nine had started developing replacement gel packs. The first four had been pressed into service as soon as they had formed to replace faulty units. But they were not as efficient as the originals, yielding less than half of the performance required. A fact admitted by the perfectionist and annoyed Seven of Nine. So she had set about developing an improved pack with some urgency. The fact that they were regarded as almost impossible to create on a star ship had not been lost on anybody. She noted her success firmly in her log as a positive point, there was not going to be many of those. 

It was now a race against time to see whether Seven would succeed before the computer finally failed. The fact that Seven of Nine had never failed before in any task she had set herself was a small glimmer of hope. Another point for the log.

The Colonel's actions were also noted. Although he had little to do with the daily running of the ship. He was appearing everywhere and at all times, night and day, calming frayed tempers, taking on tasks to help those that were struggling, or even simply stopping to talk to those that were plainly fed up. She wondered when he found time to sleep. 

If her vessel had been large enough in Star Fleets eyes to warrant a councillor, she would be hard pressed to think of a better candidate amidst all the expert Betazoids and other telepaths that made up the roster, she noted that wryly.

Carefully she closed the file, then realising she wasn't going to be interrupted immediately, allowed her eyes to close. Just for a moment, she decided. Nobody would object to a few moments of rest. Her head tilted back and she slipped into sleep, to be jolted up again fifty minutes later by Tuvoks voice reporting another sensor failure.

  


Naomi Wildman almost crept into Cargo Bay 2. She was looking for company. Ideally Seven of Nines and gain her help with a new project that the Colonel had set for her. Of all the people aboard the ship, only Seven of Nine and the Colonel ever seemed not to be preoccupied by the latest or next set of ships failures, that made them good company.

She spotted her stooped over a control panel from her alcove, her hands rapidly working the controls of the panel, intent on what she was doing. 

"Seven?" She asked cautiously, fearful of distracting the ex-Borg.

Seven of Nine straightened and turned from her alcove. Crewman Naomi Wildman! She observed calmly. The Borg alcove had been in dire need of calibration. Now she did not use it as regularly as she once had, preferring to use it simply for re-energising her implants rather than a refuge, it was more important than ever to try and keep it working as well as possible. So she had taken the chance between system failures and the need to examine her developing Gel Packs to do so. It still was not perfect, but a certain fatalism persuaded her to get it within specification and no more.

She stared at Naomi. You were supposed to be working with Neelix. State the purpose of your visit?

He had to go with Tuvok, the girl informed her. The Colonel suggested I should come and ask you for help.

Her eyebrow rose quizzically. State the nature of the assistance you require?

Naomi's face cracked into a smile of joy that the ex-borg was prepared to listen to her. I've got to show it to you, she explained quickly. It's something the Colonel made for me. He suggested it would make me more useful to the Captain as her helper!

Seven raised her eyebrow even further. Naomi's desire to be helpful to the Captain was commendable, but it amused her as much as the prospect that she may be so. Perhaps it might. State the nature of the device the Colonel has built?

The Naomi's face screwed up into a worried frown trying to remember the Colonel's description. He said it was like something they used to navigate with in the old days before Star Ships. A Sextant, she described in the end. 

He showed me how to use it, but he said you would be able to work out the mathematics without getting confused. She added hopefully holding out her hand for Seven to take.

"I must inspect the replacement computer gel packs," Seven of Nine pointed out automatically, then considered the proposal more carefully. 

She knew the Colonel was active in trying to stop the crew from brooding upon their situation. This had all his hallmarks, finding something to break the monotony for those he considered most in need. 

"I can spare 1.5 hours," she agreed, taking Naomi's hand as she danced around her. "You will assist me in inspecting the new packs first."

  


The Colonel has been adaptable, Seven commented in cautious approval thirty minutes later, examining the sextant the Colonel had built.

It appeared to be three gun sights mounted on slides that allowed each set to be swivelled and tilted independently. The angles measured using carefully engraved vernier scales, giving a derived accuracy of better than .05 degrees. Whilst she was by no means impressed by the mechanical device or its accuracy. The principles behind it did make sense as a learning tool and she fully appreciated that the Colonel learned best by physically doing things. Naomi seemed to fall in the same category.

It will not be accurate in the accepted sense of the term. But you may learn the principles of Astral Navigation, using this instrument.

We thought so! Naomi declared happily. We took bearings of three stars during the last computer failure.

Seven of Nine glanced up and sighed as the lights flickered, signalling another computer failure, mentally noting the time using her internal chronometer, it was 09:58:20.

Given the reliability of the computer at present, this device may be our most reliable method of plotting our position, she mused dryly. 

You will realign your sights now. Then we will calculate our position in relation to your last sightings. Perhaps we can compare them with the last positional fix from Astrometrics later.

Yes, Ma'am!

  


When the lights dimmed, Tom and B'Elanna Paris were heading for brunch, a well deserved and recently rare meal together. She swung around wild eyed, reversing her smart trot towards the Mess and colliding with her spouse. 

Get out of my way! She screamed at him, aiming a hard blow at his face before the surprised Lieutenant could respond, sending him reeling into the wall.

From there she ran back towards the Computer room, leaving him confused and nursing a cut lip. 

He wondered if she had done any other damage, as he probed the area of impact. Certainly it felt as if at least one tooth was loose.

He also turned, but his route was towards the Sick Bay.

It was the Colonel who seemed to be on duty there and he greeted him cordially. Good Morning Lieutenant. If you want to be treated professionally you will have to come back in two hours. Doctor is off duty.

You'll do, Colonel, he assured him.

Suit yourself. Sit down on the chair and tilt your head back, he agreed taking one glance at the bruised Lieutenant.

Tom Paris looked a little surprised but complied, the Colonel as always was working differently to everybody else. The Doctor preferred his victims to lay on the couch.

Don't tell me. I ought to see the other guy? The Colonel suggested lightly, as he examined Toms growing bruises and mouth with gentle fingers and a pocket torch. Who was it? B'Elanna?

He nodded weakly.

She must be spitting fire with all the system problems, the Colonel mused, turning away for a moment to pick up a lint pad. Now, sit still and don't struggle. It won't hurt as much. 

Grabbing his head firmly with one hand, he pushed finger and thumb of the other into his mouth. You will feel me push and pull a little. The tooth is loose, so it will have to come out.

A few seconds of struggle was it all it took, but it felt like a life time, before the Colonel handed him the fang and the lint cloth. Don't chew on it for a while, and avoid the Neelix's nut ice cream, like the plague, he recommended brightly.

Would you like me to have a quiet word with Mrs Paris? He added more sombrely. You knew how difficult she could get before you married her, so you must have expected a few bumps on the way. But it was a little excessive if you didn't do anything more than get in her way.

Carefully Tom Paris shook his head. I'll try and keep out of her way until she calms down, he declared. You are right, she is not happy at the moment.

The Colonel nodded. Don't leave it too long, or it will fester, he warned. When she has calmed down a little, perhaps you could get her to show you how to fix some of the simpler problems. It would mean you could give her a break from watching the damned computer.

Do you think she would trust me? Tom asked.

I don't think she is at the point where she would trust me and an axe in the same room with it, the Colonel opined. But she must be getting close by now!

Tom Paris grimaced at the level of desperation that B'Elanna would have sunk too, to entertain that idea. I think I will go and have some of the days soup, he said. Before trying to see B'Elanna.

Excellent. I'll join you, the Colonel enthused. Mrs Nine should be about ready to join me there.

  


It was a less than convivial atmosphere in the Staff Meeting that afternoon. Every face showed its own tell tale signs of the strain they were suffering. 

Captain Janeway studied them all as they settled uncomfortably to the table. B'Elanna's was an almost permanent scowl. Tom Paris's had obvious bruises, his face was swelling badly. She did not know where they had come from, but she could guess. Chakotay's was a picture tiredness and worry lines. Even Ensign Kim and Neelix were unusually subdued. That left the Doctor, who had no choice about his appearance, yet still managed to convey a feeling of despair. Seven of Nine, seemed to be clutching the Colonel's hand for comfort. She envied the ex-Borg that small comfort. And the Colonel. He had obviously dusted off the mask he used to wear, before Seven and he had crashed their way into each others lives. Tuvok's face was impassive as always, it was never easy to tell with him. She wondered what was going through his mind.

She sighed regretfully. This was not going to be a good meeting. We'll start with the Computer, she decided. 

B'Elanna scowled at her. It is getting worse. Miller is doing everything to it, short of writing everything in the databases onto paper to keep it working.

I have another four gel packs ready for installation, Seven of Nine offered. The modifications appear to be satisfactory.

That will help, B'Elanna admitted. The first four are still in use and appear to be immune to the virus. It's just they aren't capable of the processing required.

How long before there are more ready? Chakotay demanded sharply. At the rate we are losing the system we will be down to stopping essential services.

If the packs are suitable we will produce four units per day. We need 110, Seven of Nine announced.

The Captain did the required mental arithmetic and didn't like the answer. Four weeks. Isn't there something we can do to speed it up further?

Seven of Nine shook her head. The development tanks were designed to operate independently of the ships systems. They have a limited generation capacity.

Can we survive four weeks? 

She looked pointedly at Neelix and the Colonel. I've had fourteen people before me for disciplining. I suspect you have hidden or otherwise dealt with more, Colonel?

A few, Ma'am, the Colonel admitted, rising to nibble at the bait. I think, we have too many people with too little to do.

We can't put anymore into stasis, Chakotay snapped. If there is a problem we will be struggling for crew as it is!

The Colonel considered his hands for a moment. 

You have a suggestion? Tuvok asked picking up on the action.

It isn't one that will be popular, the Colonel admitted unhappily. And it is a solution I've said I would not have anything to do with in the past. But I could drill them. It will take their minds of our current problems for most of the time. It depends upon how bad you think the situation is?

The Captain lifted her eyes to the heavens and said a silent prayer. I hope it won't come to that, she said quietly. Star Fleet is not a military outfit like the one you belonged to, Colonel. We don't bully people like that. They are all skilled, intelligent people. I hope they will be able to control themselves.

Forgive me, Ma'am, he acquiesced quickly. But I have seen intelligent people that have gone to the limits of what they can endure. Those limits tend to be lower than the peasants, simply because they think they understand what is happening around them.

His response was not received well by the rest of the meeting, soliciting more scowls.

When will be out of this void? The Captain continued doggedly, eager to avoid further discussion on the topic, before something was said to antagonise the proceedings further.

That is unclear. I have not been able to carry out a full Astral scan since the computer failures began, Seven of Nine pointed out. I am attempting to approximate our position, using a device the Colonel built for Crewman Naomi Wildman.

Is there anything else? Like some good news? The Captain sighed.

There were no more takers, leaving her to sum up and delegate. B'Elanna and Seven, keep working on the computer. Try to keep it operating as well as possible. Chakotay and Harry, start looking for more systems that we can survive without. Shut down all but essential replicators, compress the decks, anything that will take the load off the computer. Alan, you and Neelix try and keep things calm on the decks. Dismissed She finished trying to sound more positive than she felt and gazed around the assembly as they scrambled to their feet and left.

Only the Colonel remained. He appeared not to have heard her command and was still considering his hands.

Alan. Did you hear me? She tried again.

He started in surprise. I'm sorry, Ma'am. Were you referring to me?

She smiled weakly, leaning forward. It was true, he did not always recognise his name. Yes. You are the only Alan' aboard the ship. I need your help and support to look after the crew.

You know that is always there, Ma'am, he pointed out, his hands flat on the table. One suggestion though, Ma'am. Go and see Miss Wildman. She wants to show you her mapping. It might do you both good. He rose, saluted and left.

  


The Captain did as the Colonel had suggested and went in search of Naomi Wildman. She accepted without question his comment that Naomi would appreciate her visit, but was less certain about his opinion that she would benefit as well.

She found the young girl on her own in the forward observation lounge, fusing over large sheets of paper.

Well what have we here? She asked gently, casually walking upto Naomi to examine the paperwork she was working on.

It's an astral chart, Naomi explained proudly looking up, her face breaking into a huge grin of delight at the Captains interest. Seven gave me the details of the stars that we can see from her map in Astrometrics, then helped me to place the markers so I could find suitable stars.

Then what do you do with it? The Captain asked in apparent interest, leaning over the sheet and examining the small dots and the less neat numbers written beside them.

I take sightings of the three major ones and plot them on the chart, like these. Naomi pointed to a series of small x's also drawn on the chart, again a series of numbers were written against them. Correlating to the numbers against some of the star positions.

It's nearly time I made another set. You can help me if you like? She offered.

I think I might like that, the Captain admitted with a grin of her own. Is that the instrument you are using? She pointed towards the sextant that was mounted in the observation window. I've never seen anything like that!

Naomi grinned at her. Nor had Seven, but she said it was more reliable than anything else we had. It is very easy to use, she enthused. It's the mathematics afterwards that I can't do properly. Seven tried to explain it, but I didn't understand all of it. Would you help me. Please!

The Captain smiled warmly. It would not hurt to let herself relax for a little while, even if it was with a rather abstract mathematical problem. Of course. But I haven't done any mathematics like that for years. I'm going to be a little rusty, she warned.

That's alright, Captain. Even Seven struggled for a while and the Colonel couldn't do it at all! Naomi assured her.

The sudden thought of Seven struggling over a primitive mathematical equation had the Captain almost giggling and gave her hope for her own attempt. You take the readings and I'll brush up on the formulae, she said encouragingly, setting herself at the table.

Curiously she watched Naomi expertly sight down the three gunsights and read off the numbers against the scale. She wrote down the numbers on the girls command. Then watched as she drew out a series of triangles on more sheets of paper. Another Colonel influence, she reasoned, using paper doodles to try and make problems simpler.

Together they settled at the table to manually work through series upon series of triangulation formulae.

  


The Colonel, devoid of any specific duties, wandered the ships corridors. Stopping to talk quietly with those that seemed to have the time, need for distraction or simply needed a helping hand. Always addressing them by name, but always managing to combine friendly' with formal'. It was not anything that he had learnt or could be taught from a book, it was born from long experience and made easier by his strange status aboard the ship. A crewman and officer, but not one. It made the crew, in general, open with him as he begged to be shown what they did and how.

The fact that he still insisted on saluting those he talked to and frequently used the honorific Sir' and Mister' as appropriate from his training, universally amused the crew, even now, after two years aboard. A factor that had not passed his notice and there were times he deliberately played the role to its fullest extent. There were times when his progress down the corridor had his right arm whirling like a windmill. 

It was something he was consciously doing now. He could positively feel the strain on the ship as the systems failed. He knew what it was and why, but had no idea where and when it would flare up. If it did come to a head, he was not even sure of what he could do about it. His Rules of Engagement against which he had promised to follow, prevented any direct assistance to an internal dispute. But a failure of discipline would spell the end of Voyager. He would simply have to be indirect and try and prevent it coming to a head.

This conclusion led him to direct has saunter towards the central computer room. Whilst he had made a half promise to Tom Paris not to get involved directly in his tiff, he felt there was still scope for a quiet chat with B'Elanna and lay the seeds for something more if needed. 

He found her glaring at the Computer Core, daring it to crash again.

May I offer the assistance of a steel toe capped boot in the delicates, Lieutenant? He offered brightly. He did not look at her as he came to a halt by her side.

She scowled, but said nothing.

The Colonel sighed, she had been like this for over a week and not just with Tom Paris. Don't take it so hard, he counselled. The problems are not your fault.

It was my idea to run the simulation that caused the damage, she hissed tensing as if she wanted to strike out at him.

The simulation may have been, and as the intended victim perhaps I should get more worked up about it, he agreed mildly. But the problem may have appeared at any time. It could have been much worse. As it is we have to live with it, you and Mrs Nine have to try and fix it. But you don't have to try and do it alone. There are others that can help and one that is hurting because you won't let him.

This isn't something Tom can do. He knows what I am like, she snapped.

And if he can't take the heat, he should get out of the kitchen! The Colonel interrupted. I know those sayings by heart. I've used them myself. But have you considered what happens afterwards? When you have become used to company, it can become very lonely when it isn't there anymore. Don't take my word for it, ask Mrs Nine.

She whirled around at him as the implication struck her. He wouldn't?

I wouldn't know, he assured her. But the crack you gave him this morning, damned near broke his jaw. How many of those would you accept? Think about it Lieutenant. Even if he can't patch this box of crap for you, he may be able to help you in ways other than being a punch bag.

He saluted, turned and was about to leave when B'Elanna's comm sounded. Lieutenant Torres-Paris to Engineering. Immediate.

It looked for a moment as if B'Elanna was not going to respond to the summons. It prompted the Colonel to interrupt her seeming deliberations.

May I be permitted to escort you, Ma'am? He held out an arm, as if offering an escort to a date.

Despite herself, B'Elanna could not resist the giggle at the strange and inappropriate action.

She took the proffered arm, whispering. If Seven finds out and objects, I'll break your arm!

If Mrs Nine finds out, she will probably break the other one, he responded, leading her out.

  


"Engineering to Captain," B'Elanna's voice disturbed Captain Janeway as she was watching Naomi making the latest neat mark onto her chart.

She stretched uncomfortably before responding. She had spent over an hour going over the calculations with Naomi. Despite that she had been enjoying the careful calculation and recalculating the complicated equations. It had proved a refreshing change to intentionally attempt to manually calculate an answer as opposed to simply asking the computer for an answer, allowing her to forget, however temporarily, her larger problems. Briefly she wondered if that was what the Colonel had intended. It would be typical of him.

"We have a new a problem. There is a constriction in the collectors."

A new twist of dread hit her with B'Elanna's announcement.

"You're sure it isn't another computer glitch?" She demanded without much hope.

"Checked it. It's not a computer fault. Miller has confirmed it."

She gripped the table in alarm. If there was a problem with the Bussards, then the ship would be in deep trouble very quickly, they would be starting to expend more fuel than they collected.

"I'm on my way," she responded leaping to her feet.

She turned back to Naomi. She was looking up at her in concern. "Will everything be alright, Captain?"

Captain Janeway forced herself to reassuring smile. "I'm sure it will be. And you should keep up your mapping, it is an important role for a Captains Assistant. To be able to give her answers to questions." 

"Like the Colonel?" Naomi responded brightly. "He always finds answers."

The suggestion made her pause uncomfortably. The Colonel's forte was providing answers to questions she did not know she had yet. "Something like that," she agreed, patting her comfortingly on the shoulder and heading for the door.

"Captain. Where have the stars gone?" Naomi burst out.

Naomi's sudden cry made her spin around before she reached the door. "What did you say?" She demanded sharply.

Naomi was sitting staring at the view port pointing at it. "I could see stars when we sat down. They aren't there anymore!" 

The Captain gazed out the window herself. Naomi was right the small flecks of light that had been there a few hours ago were missing. She starred at it dumbly.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I am going to find out!"

With renewed determination she headed for the Bridge.

  


"What has happened?" She demanded storming onto the Bridge.

"B'Elanna has reported a problem with the Bussards. She is working on them now. Ship is stationary until the problem is fixed. External sensors have just failed. We are checking for a computer malfunction," Chakotay briefed her quickly.

"It isn't a computer malfunction," she snapped irritably, collapsing into her seat. "There is nothing to be seen out the view ports either! I want a full briefing in an hour." Nervously she reached for her comm badge, then suddenly realising there was nothing to do, she headed for the Ready Room.

  


"I can't clear the constriction," B'Elanna announced in the Captains briefing. "It's external. I'm having the ducting stripped to see if we can identify what it is."

"How can it be external, there's nothing out there? And there is no fault in the sensors, diagnostics proved clean," Kim argued.

"There wasn't, and now there aren't any stars either," the Captain corrected him. "Why did the sensors miss it? Another computer fault? Tuvok? Seven?"

"The sensor routines were running at 80% efficiency, except during the system failure at 09:58," Seven of Nine responded.

"That would be too long ago for this," Chakotay mused. "Do they offer any idea as to what there is or why they can't sense what it is?"

"The sensor systems are currently operational," Tuvok said blandly. "They give no indication of any objects outside the ship."

"Something is blocking the Bussard collectors," B'Elanna insisted her eyes flashing in anger. "Whatever it is it's big enough and thick enough to stop them scavenging the hydrogen we need for power!"

The discussion raged on for another fifteen minutes, before the Colonel, getting bored with the circular arguments, coughed loudly. It forced a moments pause between the bickering voices.

"We'll solve the argument by physically looking," the Captain decreed, shooting the Colonel a grateful look as she did so. "We will have to to clear the Bussards anyhow. Chakotay, arrange a work party."

I will go! We require additional data, Seven of Nine volunteered. 

That is settled then," the Captain decreed. 

  


What happens if we haven't actually dropped out of Warp? The Colonel asked pensively, as the suited team of nine prepared to emerge onto the ships casing. Silently he cursed Seven of Nine for volunteering to go outside. If she had not, he would not be here either. Unusually for him, he had taken his comparative failure to get the hang of space walking as a sign that it was something he did not wish to become proficient in and was quite prepared to wait until it was necessary. But she had asked him to act as her partner on the ships casing, he could not refuse a request like that. Besides she was stepping into dangerous territory. That alone was enough for him to want to join her. Now he was hoping he would manage to avoid being sick again.

If we haven't and you go outside you won't feel a thing, Sir, a crewman chuckled. You will dissolve into atoms as soon as you leave. That's why we push out a marker first.

So comforting, the Colonel muttered, pulling down his visor.

Seven of Nine turned and checked he had locked it into place properly, then purposefully clipped a line to him. The other end she secured to her own belt.

So we both go together? He suggested over the intercom.

I will not have you getting into danger, she asserted turning to follow the crew as the outer hatch opened.

The Colonel claimed in surprise, as he stepped out onto the the lower section of the saucer. The ship is covered in seaweed! Then shut his eyes as his mind started to reel from the distances involved.

The analogy was well made. The ship did appear to be covered in long green and brown tendrils. They appeared to be growing perceptibly as they watched. 

The warp nacelles themselves appeared to have turned into thick bushes under the weight of the green fronds that they were wading through.

The crew, using suit thrusters, jetted away to investigate the problems with the nacelles. Leaving Seven of Nine and the Colonel standing together near the airlock watching their expert progress.

Seven peered into the Colonels visor. You may open your eyes now," she sounded amused. "We will take a sample of the Seaweed. Perhaps you can identify the species. She bent forward to pull at a frond.

The Colonel did as he was told but kept his eyes pointing firmly downwards, fighting of the dizziness.

Assist me, she demanded as she pulled harder on the fronds anchor, finding it stuck hard.

You wouldn't let me bring anything sharp, the Colonel pointed out mildly. 

Slow down a little, this stuff is slippery! His voice ended in a cry as Seven of Nine tugged harder on the object of her interest and lost her footing as the weed gave up its tenuous grip of the hull.

She span away, temporarily out of control, tugging on the safety line that joined them, making his own boots slide. Desperately the Colonel grabbed for and held a handful of fronds, wrapping them around his arm until they checked his own slipping.

You're supposed to stop me running off! He chided, feeling his nausea returning as he pulled them both back to the safety of the ship. 

I miss-calculated the level of adhesion, she excused herself hurriedly. "Your response was sufficient."

Over the intercom she heard his chuckle. And if I hold my hands up to your visor I can feel the embarrassment through my gloves. Still no harm done, Ma'am. And you still seem to have your prize.

She didn't respond to his teasing, instead she concentrated on retrieving and examining her tricorder. There is an atmosphere forming, she announced in bemusement. I am detecting a low level of Oxygen and Nitrogen!

Excellent. I think we can safely conclude there is something out here. Can we go and have a cup of tea? The Colonel enquired nervously. He didn't like the way the fronds seemed to be growing around him.

We should see if this growth is present on the sensor array first.

She sounded very insistent and determined he decided. Carry on, Ma'am. I think if we stand here for long we are going to look like ivy covered garden gnomes. Good grief this stuff grows quick! I thought the ground laurel at home was bad!

They started walking towards a vantage point that would allow them to see the main sensor array towards the front of the engineering hull, holding each others arms to prevent each other slipping.

I think there is a problem down there, the Colonel announced slowly as they viewed where the deflector dish was supposed to be from their vantage point. Like the nacelles it had disappeared in a riot of weed. "It's a ruddy jungle down there!"

I think we need to get back, he added, a warning bell sounding in his mind. When we came out this stuff was barely up to our knees. Now we appear to be wading through it waist deep and its only been twenty minutes!

The weed is too tough to pull away! A disjointed voice came over the intercom. "We will have to cut it!"

Is anybody else's visor going green? A second interrupted. 

There was several moments silence as the whole party considered their small windows on the world.

Seeing a green tint starting to show on his visor had the Colonel shouting in alarm. Everybody in! At the double!

Quickly he started back, pulling Seven of Nine with him. Scrapping at the green haze over his visor. It wasn't working, he could now barely see through it.

Has your visor furred up, Seven? He asked quietly, after a few minutes and coming to a halt. I think we may be lost. I can barely tell light and dark!

Yes. I have been attempting to scrap it off, she admitted.

So have I, he agreed. I don't suppose you have a phasor? 

Any ideas as to which way we should go?

Should I start worrying?

You will be efficient! She instructed him.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, he responded calmly. But I use my eyes like you use computers. The problem is there is no uphill here. We could be walking around the edge for all I know!

"Colonel to Voyager. Is anybody listening?" 

The ships comm also appeared dead.

He pondered for a moment. There are emergency hatches on every deck. If I can find one can you open it from outside?

Yes. But they are not airlocks. If we use one, air will be forcibly ejected until a force field establishes itself. It will blow us off the hull and may prove a danger to the crew, she pointed out.

We'll deal with that when we have to, he responded. I want you to stand absolutely still. I'm going to walk around you as best I can in this jungle. Keep the safety line taught and give me a tug when you feel the line is straight ahead of you. If I don't find one on the first lap, join me, then I can try again.

  


The ships computer controlled communications system failed shortly after the work party set out. Sending B'Elanna scurrying to find the fault and the Captain pacing impatiently upon the Bridge.

They had heard the Colonel's comment about seaweed and his recapturing Seven. Then nothing until the airlock started to recycle forty minutes later. It had her flying towards the Suiting Room as a bag of nerves, Chakotay close behind her.

Where is the Colonel and Seven of Nine? The Captain demanded as the work party as they divested themselves of their suits.

They went to try and inspect the Sensor Array, Captain, a crewman claimed. They were on their way back, when the Colonel ordered us back.

So where are they? She demanded.

I don't know, Captain, he answered wretchedly. We only just managed to find the hatch ourselves. The weed is shoulder level out there and I couldn't see a thing through the visor! He waved at his helmet to prove the point.

She turned to examine the helmet and suit he had removed. The once white space suit was now covered in a fine green moss.

Get another team suited to go and find them! She demanded. Then take a sample of this stuff to the labs for examination. She indicated at the moss.

We may not be able to examine it adequately until the computer is brought online, Tuvok pointed out calmly. Nor is it wise to send another crew outside until we have some idea of what we are facing.

I already have two crewmen outside, the Captain stormed. They are lost and I want them back. They can't wait for the computer! If they're lucky they will only have a couple of hours air left!

  


Seven of Nine felt the line in her hand tug hard, then heard the Colonel gasp and curse as he slipped and landed heavily. For nearly an hour they had been performing their improvised search pattern. The Colonel moving around her as far as the lead and the weeds would permit, searching for any clue of a possible opening into the ship, often on his hands and knees amidst the thick undergrowth. Desperately groping through the base of the weed for signs of deck plates. When he returned to his start position, Seven moved to meet him and he would start again. They both knew it was a desperate measure, they could, despite her caution and keen senses, be working in circles of their own and he could quite simply miss an entrance. The whole exercise was getting more difficult as the weed grew around them at an increasing rate, making movement ever more difficult. I factor that was impressed upon Seven of Nine when the tether joining her to the Colonel was suddenly snatched from her hand.

She called pensively, bending to try and retrieve the line.

I'm alright. I think, he claimed cautiously. I tripped on something. I think I may have damaged the suit. It doesn't feel right in here. Two moments.

It seemed like an eternity for his reply to come to her. Not knowing exactly where the Colonel was, unbeckoned thoughts started to crowd her mind as to the seemingly endless silence from her partner. 

I seem to have a puncture in the leg, he announced at last. I'm holding it closed at the moment. But I think I could use a little help about now. If you're not too busy, please Seven?

She tried to move towards him, but found she couldn't. The now opaque visor preventing her from seeing that the fronds of weed on her suit had entangled with the fronds attached to the ship, effectively tying her to the one spot. She could feel them tugging at her though, it felt as though they were pulling her down.

I am unable to move! She exclaimed in alarm.

Okay. Stay calm, he responded gently. I've found the puncture kit. Heaven knows if it will hold on all this muck though!

As quickly as he could he set about the repair of his suit.

The uncertainty led him to apply almost the whole tube of instant sealing solution. Not just over the cut, but through it onto his leg as well. Finally pushing the ends of the slit closed and pressing it firmly to his leg. As an added precaution he pulled several of the fronds that festooned his leg and wrapped them tightly over the cut, tying them off.

I think that might hold for a while, he muttered. 

Are we still talking, Seven? He asked lightly.

I am still here, she promised, recognising the danger signs of the Colonel's forced humour. He always reacted like that if he felt in imminent danger. It was one of his self protection systems cutting in. It helped him withstand stresses he could not deal with.

I am glad, he responded. I feel as though I've had a night on the Razz!

She demanded, becoming more alarmed.

A night drinking strong alcohol. Thumping headache, dizziness. 

His speech was also slurred compared to his natural crisp tones.

You have decompression sickness, Seven announced immediately. You require immediate medical assistance.

I don't think the Doctor is going to make a house call anytime in the immediate future, he slurred. I'm coming to find you. Can you pull me in?

Gently she started to haul on the tether that held them together, then harder as she felt the resistance increase.

  


A second team of four men stepped out an hour after the Captain had called for the assembly of a second squad. Led by Commander Chakotay, each was tethered to the next by a long length of line. They also carried phasors. 

The weed must be over four metres in length! He gasped. I'm going to try looking from aloft.

With that he deactivated his boots and drifted into apace until he was stopped by the line. From this vantage point he could see almost a quarter of the lower side of Voyagers saucer section, the section they thought Seven of Nine and the Colonel were still on, and the sea of weed that covered it. The weed waved gently, almost as if there was a breeze blowing across it. But of Seven of Nine and the Colonel there was no sign.

Chakotay to the Colonel! he tried his intercom.

He was relieved by the almost immediate but drunk response. Lovely day for a walk, Sir!

Despite the situation he smiled at the Colonel's response. Where are you? He asked.

Specifically or generally? The Colonel fired back. Generally. I think we are still on the saucer. Specifically. I haven't a clue. We haven't been able to see anything for at least an hour!

Where is Seven? He asked.

I am with the Colonel, Commander, she acknowledged calmly. Be aware that the Colonel has decompression sickness and I am entangled in weed. We are sharing our air supply.

We are coming to get you. Don't move! He declared, trying to get a fix on their broadcasts. The implication of what Seven of Nine had said and his own command struck him as he did so. He added apologetically, he could almost see Seven of Nine's quizzical eyebrow rise at his command.

The fix on your transponder signals is not as accurate as it could be, he commented. I could walk right past you and not know!

The Colonel spoke up suddenly. If I cut free of Mrs Nines pack, she can pay me out like a balloon. Would that help you find her?

What about your air supply? He demanded.

It isn't exhausted, he assured him. Just a little thin. I'll last for a while.

How short is he, Seven?

she admitted. We cannot ascertain the extent of the loss after the damage to his suit.

Do as he says, Chakotay sighed. I can use the thrusters to get to you. We have enough line to reach almost the whole of the saucer. The last statement was a lie. He was not wearing a thruster pack and they had barely 100 Metres of line between them. But he was hopeful that they would not be too far away and he would be able to pull them back before his own visor furred up too badly to find his way.

Seven of Nine considered the Commanders command carefully. 

Neither she nor the Colonel had any idea how much air he had lost. She knew precisely how long they had been outside, 2 hours 12 minutes. She even knew precisely how long the Colonel had been linked to her survival pack, after she realised how short of the life giving commodity he was, 32 minutes. That would give them about twenty minutes of shared air. It might not be enough if they were any distance from the air lock.

It was a difficult decision. One that the Colonel quietly took away from her in the 4 seconds she considered it, by disconnecting his air pipe from her set.

I'll see you aboard, he whispered shallowly as he floated up out of the weeds.

She felt the tug of the line as it reached its extents, and the answering tugs from the fronds that bound her.

The Colonel is aloft, she announced. Arrive quickly. There is insufficient air in his suit for him to survive for long.

I see him! Looks like a bundle of weed, 80 Metres away, Chakotay declared. I'm coming.

He struck out. Swinging his arms back in an exaggerated breast stroke, he started drifting towards the Colonel.

Pay out the line and follow as it finishes! He demanded of his crew as he drifted gently towards the Colonel.

He covered the distance in a few minutes, and grabbed at the hanging man as he arrived, wrapping his arms around his waist. He did not appear to notice, though the impact in the weightlessness of space must have felt like the impact of hitting a wall at the run. It certainly stung Chakotay. Seven of Nine did notice and she let out a yelp of her own as the entangling vines tightened around her body.

I've got him, Seven! But he doesn't seem to be over communicative! He declared. I'm following the line towards you.

Hand over hand he pulled his way down towards the struggling Seven of Nine. He could just make out, through his fogging visor, another bundle of the weed that appeared to be moving independently of the rest.

Is that you, Seven? He asked quietly. Giving the bundle an experimental tug.

I'm going to try and burn you free. Stand still! He demanded. Unshipping his phasor rifle he set it for a wide beam and started to play it around the the area in which she stood.

Gradually she felt her bindings become less restricting, until with a last tug she was free and starting to float off the hull.

Chakotay sprang after her. Grabbing at her rapidly receding boot.

Got you! He exclaimed. Start pulling us in!

  


The Doctor crouched over the Colonel as soon as he was dragged from the airlock and his helmet removed. He was slightly blue from the lack of oxygen, but otherwise seemed to be in one piece. 

He is not badly affected! He declared in surprise. There hasn't been any severe oxygen shortage. He should make a full recovery in a day or two. I'll give him a stimulant to suppress the oxygen starvation. What has he done with his leg?

There is a puncture under the weed, Seven of Nine gasped, blinking after the bright lights compared to the darkness she had suffered for the previous few hours. Still struggling in the weed bindings that the crew were trying to pull from her.

He sealed that, the Doctor admitted casually, cutting the suit away from around the rubber emergency sealant. But did he have to glue his leg to it as well?

He did not think the sealant would work effectively over the weed.

I need solvents to release it, the Doctor mused. I'll get some from Engineering. In the mean time. If he wakes quicker than he ought. Then get him to rest, he demanded. Even if you have to tie him up in these weeds!

  


How is the Colonel? Captain Janeway asked in concern, as her staff conference opened.

He is annoyed. The Doctor has him restrained in sick bay, Seven of Nine reported calmly.

"Restrained! Why?" the Captain spluttered.

Seven looked at her in wide eyed innocence. "He had a disagreement with the Doctor about his fitness for duty. He collapsed trying to escape."

When will he back with us? The Captain kept up doggedly hiding her amusement. The Colonel positively hated being in Sick Bay, especially as a patient.

The Doctor has quoted six days before the effects have been overcome.

The Captain sighed. I'm sorry, Seven, she apologised. I didn't expect things to be that bad outside.

Seven of Nine shrugged. He carried out the functions necessary for our safety.

"What caused him to puncture the suit?" Tom Paris asked looking up.

"He thought it was a deck plate from the outer hull," Kim briefed them. "The weed is creating increased stress on the hull. But there are no breaches reported."

Okay. The Computers? The Captain demanded, quickly changing the subject. "When can they be brought up again?"

Miller reports he lost four packs, before he could rescue the data, in the last outage," B'Elanna announced. "He wants us to restart the whole thing again. We can bring it down tomorrow."

"Is there some good news?"The Captain sighed.

"Seven's latest packs are working perfectly and Miller thinks he has a handle on the source of the virus. But he will have to rebuild a lot of the code himself to remove it and it will take several days." 

"If he does that, he will become part of the system," Tuvok pointed out.

I don't think we have a lot of choice," the Captain sighed. "We need the computer. Give him a freehand, but keep an eye on him. I'll advise the Colonel. Power?

The Emergency power system is stable and we've taken as many systems off-line to ease the load. We should be safe for quite a while. But we are now controlling some automatic systems manually," B'Elanna reported.

Impulse Engines?

They have been cleared and are available. But until we know where we are going I dare not make them operational.

Warp Drive? The Captain asked hopefully.

Until the weed is removed from the nacelles, they will remain inoperational, Seven announced.

That brought them uncomfortably to the subject of the weed that now infested the ship.

What is the weed? The Captain demanded. Why did it infect the ship? How did it get here?

The source and nature of the weed is unknown, Captain, Tuvok spoke up. We will not be able to obtain additional data until the Computer comes on-line.

The Colonel described the weed as being like Seven described.

Okay. It's seaweed, The Captain agreed. How do we get rid of it?

There were blank looks and silence from around the table, broken at last by Kim. We are finding it difficult to analyse, he admitted. Without the computer to interpret, we are having to rely on trying to understand the results from the tricorders. We don't understand where it came from, let alone why it is growing on our hull!

"Perhaps we should deploy the same methods as the Colonel advocates in these circumstances?" Seven of Nine suggested calmly.

"What! Guess?" Kim disputed scornfully.

Captain Janeway managed to look pained at the suggestion. Seven, herself, bit back at the Ensign's scorn for her husband and his unconventional methods.

"The Colonel doesn't guess! He adapts to the situation," She asserted. "He assimilates the facts that are available. Then attempts to place a reasonable estimation to the solution."

"That is what we are attempting to do," Chakotay responded mildly.

"We are attempting to calculate answers that are irrelevant in our present state. We are attempting to discover 'How' and 'Why' it exists," Seven corrected him. "The Colonel does not attempt to do that. He responds to the facts he knows, to achieve an immediate goal- The release of the ship. He ignores the facts he does not know or are unnecessary to achieve the goal."

"So how does that work for us, Seven?" The Captain put in quietly, prepared to grasp for any potential solution to their quandary and lack of progress.

"We start by noting the features we do know about the weed, and the circumstances we are in. Starting at the most basic levels and comparing them with items that we are familiar with," Seven of Nine responded immediately. "Discard any that do not appear to have a value and treat those we do understand. It is an approach we have observed him use frequently during his training on the ships systems."

"I think I understand," Chakotay mused, vividly remembering the Colonels struggles trying to get to grips with their world. "Don't bother looking for reasons, just find a solution. Don't worry about the details," he reinterpreted.

"Precisely!"

The Captain grinned suddenly. "That is a change in attitude from you, Seven," she said in amusement. "You are normally the one that wants to know how everything works!"

Seven of Nine regarded her coolly. "My attitude is a pragmatic one, Captain. I still desire to find the reasons for the existence of the weed," she admitted. "But we are unable to adequately explore the subject with the ship festooned and short of power."

"Okay!" She agreed readily. "As you seem to understand the difference between him and us, better than the rest of us. And you have first hand experience of the weed, you had better start. Call in anybody that you may need for assistance. How long will you need?"

"Uncertain," she responded. "I may wish to engage the Colonel's assistance. His methods are not logical."

The meeting grinned as one at the last statement. Seven had advocated the Colonel's methods, but she was accepting that the dividing line that lay between them was not going to be easy for her to follow.

  


Seven of Nine considered the pile of weed that lay on the bench in the science lab carefully. It was a mottled brown and green. Clammy, almost rubbery to the touch. The bundle that had been brought in was nearly four metres in length and had been held to the ships skin by Bulb' like growths at the end. A single 55mm wide ribbon emanated from the top of the bulb, whilst a number of root like cords grew from the bottom. The ribbon itself had a serrated edge which explained how they managed to tangle together, at least in one direction. At various points along their length a number of blisters appeared to be forming. She guessed that these were probably seed pods. The cords were strong and wiry, but they did not seem to be used to attach the weed to the ship, the bulb seemed to have that function secreting a glue like substance. Rather they seemed to grow parallel to the surface.

From there she was stuck. Her knowledge of botany was at best sketchy. That meant she would need help. There was no ships botanist. Ensign Ayala being an exobiologist might give some answers as to the plants life cycle. But Seven wanted to know how to combat it. The only answer she could come up with was Hydroponics and Ensign Hemmark.

She turned on her heel and marched out the room. As the door closed behind her a seed blister popped, sending a tiny cloud of microscopic seed into the atmosphere. The seeds had vanished into the ships atmosphere long before she returned with the arguing Ensign.

I don't know anything about seaweed. I have beds to prepare, Hemmark complained as they entered the lab.

You do know about the propagation and control of plants, Seven responded calmly gripping him firmly by the upper arm. As such your knowledge of plant life may be of assistance.

She ushered him towards the mass of weed.

I've never seen anything like it, the Ensign asserted, trying to turn away.

Nor has anybody else, Seven pointed out patiently. The Colonel often says that because it looks different as a whole, it doesn't mean that individual aspects are. The skin of the weed feels clammy, like damp leather. Do you know of a plant like that?

the Ensign admitted. The Hectrum on Saras III, even the Earth Rubber plant.

How would you control those plants? She asked immediately.

You break the skin surface with a mild alkaline, he responded immediately.

There are alkali in the closet. Pick a suitable one and test it, Seven demanded.

The Ensign still muttering turned to the cupboard and retrieved a strong alkaline as ordered and stooped to apply a drop. It had no effect.

There was a blister here, he commented, examining the weed more closely. You can see a slight ridge.

Seven of Nine bent to examine the area he had pointed to. A seed pod has burst, she agreed. There is no indication of the seed in the area.

Many plants forcibly eject the seed from pods like that, Hemmark offered. They'll be around.

What size would they be?

Looking at the other blisters. They could be a few millimetres in diameter, perhaps a little smaller, he described.

Smaller than a micron? She queried urgently.

I wouldn't have thought so. Why?

They could have entered the ventilation system, she explained uneasily. Test the alkaline again.

He repeated the previous experiment. This time nothing happened. Again they examined the weed. There appeared to be no change.

What other features do you recognise about this plant life?

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. I suppose the bulbs are like spring onions? But they are producing runners like ivy. So that makes them like Nepturac on Klingon. It's leaves are waxy as well. But I don't know how to control that, it's usually a struggle to keep it alive!

She demanded.

It doesn't like water, he explained. People grow it for the black flowers.

Taking her stern look as an order, he turned for the replicator and came back with a tumbler of water. This he emptied onto the weed. Nothing visible happened. They both sighed in disappointment. 

Continue experimenting with remedies you are aware of, Seven demanded. I will seek out Ensign Ayala to assist us.

  


Two days later Captain Janeway went to see the Colonel in the Sickbay. The Doctor had insisted that he spend time resting in Sick Bay after he had recovered consciousness and despite his repeated attempts to escape. Eventually he had resorted to persuading Seven of Nine to threaten restraints for her recalcitrant husband to get him to accept it. 

Ostensibly she was going to keep him company. For power reasons the Doctor was being kept off-line as often as possible, so the Colonel was often on his own there. But she was also after something from him. His fabled listening ear and some of the calm control, help and advice he seemed to offer to Seven. 

She found him sitting on his bunk, still looking pale from his foray outside. "Seven thinks we need to think like you do!" She claimed. 

"So I believe, Ma'am, he responded cautiously. I think I am quite flattered. Though I wasn't aware there was a major difference, Ma'am."

"She thinks there is," the Captain assured him. "I'm inclined to agree, there is a difference in approach and I'm hoping it is going to make a difference to how quickly we make progress."

"Perhaps that is where the difference lies?" The Colonel suggested gently.

She folded her arms and looked at him quizzically.

"The way you live relies on having all the answers to all the questions. Generally the moment you want them." he explained. "When you can't, you immediately start to think there is something wrong and start to worry about it. It becomes your overriding concern."

"And you?" Captain Janeway asked, fascinated now.

"I don't give a damn!" The Colonel laughed. "I just deal with the crisis, with what I've got. If I don't know something, then I have to get by without it. It's is easy then to think it isn't of great interest until afterwards."

"But that doesn't mean I am necessarily right, Ma'am," he added quickly, catching her now mesmerised gaze.

"You seem to get away with it," she responded.

He grinned. "There is a good reason for that." he pointed out.

"I know, Seven of Nine." the Captain laughed at his accustomed response, releasing herself from his spell.

The Colonel grinned at her. "In this case, No. It's because I'm stupid and stubborn. Now I've answered your question, Ma'am. May I ask one?"

"I haven't finished asking yet!" She disputed. "And I know what you are going to ask. The answer is 'When the Doctor releases you!'."

"Even if I promise, 'Light duties only', Ma'am," he begged. "I'll even promise, 'No more space walks!"

She looked surprised at the last one. "I don't believe you!" she said. "It would last until somebody got into trouble! But I will talk to him for you," she agreed, calming down again in light of his expectant face.

"Thank you, Ma'am!" He sighed. "Even just being able to go to the Mess and my billet would be better than this!"

"Now what other questions are you hoping for answers for?" He continued. "I don't have any idea how to deal with the Sargasso Sea out there either!"

"The Sargasso!" She looked at him quickly. "That was a myth, it supposedly wrecked ships!"

"It existed, Ma'am," he disputed. "And as for wrecking ships. We appear to be pretty well stuck."

She nodded. "I suppose we are. What else do you know about it?"

"The sum of my knowledge, Ma'am. Except perhaps the sea monsters?"

"I doubt there will be many of those," the Captain offered quickly. "So what do you recommend?"

"Patience, Ma'am. Let Mrs Nine root out everything she needs and talk to the right people."

They regarded each other in relaxed and companionable silence for a few minutes until the silence became uncomfortable. 

"Thinking of plants, Ma'am. How are the ones you planted in your quarters?" He asked raising an eyebrow in a most Sevenesque style.

"I've more important things to do!" She began to snap. Then smiled suddenly. "Isn't there anything you don't know about aboard this ship! How did you know? It was supposed to be a secret!"

He shrugged. "More than you might think. But in this case Ensign Hemmark told me you had asked for seeds. Not planning for retirement, Ma'am?"

"I only got 80% in your test. I want 100 next time," she laughed. "Besides, I decided I liked the additional colour and I'm not having you spring that sort of surprise on me again."

She turned to go then had a second thought. "I'm not the only one that needs to learn patience," she laughed over her shoulder.

"Touché, Ma'am."

  


Seven of Nine's team was growing as they continued to struggle with their plant problem. From Botany they had broached into Palaeontology on Ensign Ayala's assertion that there was prehistoric features to the plants, then into Zoology. Whilst they had managed to deduce additional features of the plant they still did not appear to be getting any closer to a remedy. It left Seven of Nine wondering what she had missed and scurrying through her now copious notes looking for any common features.

It was this activity that the Colonel found her engaged in, after his release from his penal servitude, some hours later.

Quietly he slipped up behind her and placed his hands over her eyes.

Guess who? He whispered in her ear, then kissed her on the neck.

Your attempt at humour is inappropriate, Seven stated calmly. You are supposed to be resting in Sick Bay. Why have you left?

he explained with a smile. Captain Janeway was so good as to point out to the Doctor, that prisoners are permitted early release and exercise for good behaviour.

Have you exhibited good behaviour? She queried, arching her eyebrow at him.

As long as I'm not caught, then I'm on my best behaviour, he suggested, pulling her a little closer. Besides I promised you would stop me doing anything I'm not allowed to.

You will assist me, she decided in relief. We have been testing the weed for a possible method of disposal for two days. We do not appear to be any closer to a solution.

She thrust two PADDS into his hand.

There are long words involved. I doubt I'll understand it, he commented. I thought you were looking for a solution?

Her eyebrow arched at him. We have tried numerous illogical and unconventional solutions, at Ensign Hemmark's suggestion. There has been no effect. We believe there may be an animate aspect to the plant. The seed displays signs of being 

It's part plant, part animal? The Colonel asked in disbelief, seeking clarification.

I think you may be looking too hard, he diagnosed, still not entirely believing the definition. 

Your meaning? She demanded.

You are looking too deep, he explained. There is always a simple answer. If you can't find it by worrying at it, then perhaps we should leave it alone for a while and see what comes to us. 

he suddenly laughed. There could be a heard of cows out there chomping their way through this muck, for all we know!

I must find a solution to this problem. I have been inefficient, she protested desperately.

Standing here glaring at a pile of weed isn't helping you, he pointed out gently.

Slipping an arm around her waist he turned her toward the door. Come on. I think you need to rest. I'll push Neelix out of the Mess for a while and cook something pleasant for dinner. Then we can have a quiet evening together, while I try and understand your notes. Besides, I doubt the ship will fall to bits overnight.

She considered resisting his proposition. She had been working in the lab for nearly sixty hours without a break and she was suffering from a reduction in her concentration. Your proposition is acceptable, she accepted, disengaging his arm and offering hers in their customary acceptance of an escort from the other.

He took it gently, then pulled her into an embrace. Don't tell the Doctor I just did that, He whispered, kissing her on the lips. The bastard would lock me up again.

  


Their evening together settled for a comfortable night in each others arms in their quarters. Despite Seven settling comfortably on his shoulder, he could feel she was still considering her problems.

A penny for your thoughts? He sighed eventually, after a third kiss had gone unanswered.

I am considering how the weed propagates, she admitted. The seed we believe is sexed, yet there is no visible means of the seed being fertilised. I believe there is value in the line of investigation.

He thought for a moment. The thing about sex, he said at last. Is that it works. It is part of life. Anything that doesn't reproduce is going to die out quite quickly.

He slipped into silence again, before asking. Have you ever watched Salmon spawning?

she responded automatically.

I'm sorry. You probably haven't even met a Salmon, he apologised. When they spawn they all swim to a small pool. There the female releases millions of eggs and the male deposits huge volumes of sperm in the general area. Could that be how it propagates? 

The volumes of seed would have to be prodigious, she pointed out. It is inefficient!

Perhaps it isn't, he agreed. But nature is a stubborn bitch and space is a place where there isn't a lot of activity. If it can find a way of getting something to live here, it will!

Why should it grow upon Voyager? she challenged.

It provided the right circumstances.

You know. An evening in bed with ones beautiful wife, is supposed to be spent in luxurious canoodling and frivolous cavorting, the Colonel chided gently. Not making your poor suffering spouse try to think about things he doesn't know anything about!

And if you are about to ask about how it survived until we came along. I can't answer that either! He added quickly. I know there are plants and animals in the deserts of Earth that survive for years in some sort of suspended animation until the circumstances are right for the rains to come. When Lieutenant Paris can get the Computer on-line again, perhaps you can get it to give you the full SP on them.

She relaxed then, reached up and kissed him, before pulling him closer. Your opinions and experience are valuable.

  


They were disturbed from a quiet breakfast in the Mess the following morning, by an excited Ensign Hemmark.

Quickly. You've got to come to the labs! He gasped almost running to their table. Something has happened to the weed!

Slow down please, Ensign! Sit down and report to us what has happened properly! The Colonel barked.

Slightly stunned by the Colonel's sharp order, the Ensign sat in the chair opposite them and began to report.

I went to the lab to try another possible remedy, he explained. But the weed has died. It's all gone brown and rotten!

That sounds promising. The question is why? The Colonel admitted.

We should examine it, Seven agreed.

  


The mass of weed was as the Ensign had described, a pile of rotting sludge covered by a thin leathery skin. It also had an all pervading smell, reminding the Colonel of far off days of boiling cabbage. It led him to examine the remains closer.

Which one did you experiment on?

This one, Seven indicated a rotting streamer that lay on the bench beside her.

He inspected it carefully and poked what looked like a burn mark.

And nothing you tried has worked?

No! Even when we tried the experiments again.

He examined another plant on another bench. There was a similar burn mark on that as well.

Any idea what the burn mark is?

It is in the position of a seed pod. We think it may be a witness from the pod exploding, Hemmark offered.

So. If we are lucky, our solution has just dropped in our laps, the Colonel commented mildly. If not, we are going to be knee deep in this muck by this time tomorrow. As they seem to have seeded. Perhaps both?

They stood and pondered the situation, before the Colonel spoke again. Let's look at the bright side, shall we? He suggested. If we assume it doesn't like it in here and seeding was a panic attack. What is different about in here to out there?

There is an atmosphere, Seven of Nine immediately pointed out the obvious.

Didn't you say there was an atmosphere forming outside? The Colonel asked.

It was very weak. Consisting largely of Hydrogen and some traces of Oxygen and Nitrogen, Seven recited.

It is warm in here as well, Hemmark interrupted.

By my guess that gives us two things to try on the weed, the Colonel suggested. Can we get hold of some compressed air? We should be able to use phasors to make it sweat.

I shall arrange a briefing, Seven of Nine decided. We will need a strong external team to carry out an effective test.

I'll advise the Captain. I think we will have to keep a weather watch for any weed growing inside. In case we are wrong, the Colonel offered.

  


Are you sure that this idea will work? Captain Janeway demanded of Seven of Nine after she had explained the proposed test to the committee.

We are unsure, Seven admitted. It needs to be tested.

How long will it take? She demanded.

The weed in the lab took three days to die, Seven pointed out. I intend to erect a closed cell force field bubble around a section of the hull and pressurise the atmosphere. That will speed the effect.

Even if it works, we won't be able to do that over the whole ship! B'Elanna pointed out.

How is the hull standing upto the strain of all the plants? The Captain asked quickly.

Fourteen breaches so far, B'Elanna confirmed. It isn't designed to withstand this sort of external load. We are trying to reinforce the structural integrity.

We could just treat key areas, Tom Paris suggested. Enough to allow us to see and move?

Ensign Hemmark has suggested treating the areas we clear with a fungicide, Seven announced. It may slow the re-establishment of the weed until we can escape the region.

"Comms?"

"Miller is working on it, but it is going to be at least 24 hours," B'Elanna reported.

The Captain considered the proposal. Nothing better had been offered over the last four days and she was impatient for something to happen. We'll try it! She decided. Chakotay, get a team set up to rig the force field.

  


Six hours later a twenty strong team, were ready to step out onto the ships outer hull. The team were all armed with a mixture of phasors and shield emitters to clear and erect a gas tight force field over a ten metre radius. In addition they were also equipped with a dozen portable space heaters and twelve five metre long tanks of compressed air. Seven of Nine was among the team that was to step out. Much to the irritation of the Colonel, who had been flatly forbidden by the Doctor to leave the ship. In the end, to try and placate the concerned soldier over the safety of his wife, Chakotay had added an extra two men to the party to protect her. He still was not happy that he was not by her side, but accepted the Commanders special consideration with gratitude.

From the view screen they watched the party move towards the outer door of the airlock as the motors started to open the door. It didn't move. 

The door has been jammed by the weeds, B'Elanna announced calmly, recycling the door mechanism.

Can it be forced? Captain Janeway demanded quickly.

She shook her head. 

Can we lock it again? The Colonel asked cautiously.

The Captain looked at him sharply.

Sorry, Ma'am! He apologised. But if you have a wooden door that's swollen, you can't shut it afterwards. He grinned weakly at his display of concern.

B'Elanna turned to the controls and recycled the door controls again. The locks have engaged, she reported, to the Colonels obvious relief.

But we can't get the team out, she reminded them.

How about through a breach? He asked. As there is already a hole we might as well use it.

The biggest is on Deck 10, B'Elanna said. We can try there!

She reopened the inner door for the lock and waved the suited figures in.

You're still not going to go with her, the Captain murmured to the Colonel, as they trooped down to Deck 10.

Would you believe me if I said, I'm not desperately unhappy about that, Ma'am? He asked.

She laughed. No I wouldn't. I know you don't want to go out. But I also know that you feel you ought to be with her if there is any danger. It would override everything for you!

I would, Ma'am, he admitted lightly. But she has a score of people to look after her. And if she does get into trouble, you'll see a new record donning a suit.

She shook her head, not so much in disbelief, but in resignation. She had the uncomfortable feeling, not for the first time, that their friend and ally obeyed her instructions to him as much from whimsy as acceptance of her authority. If he really wanted to do something, it would not be possible for them to stop him.

Again they were forced to watch the outside team prepare them selves to exit the ship. This time they would need to be a lot more careful. The breach that B'Elanna had recommended was a jagged hole about a 2 Metres in diameter. It had been created by the weeds forcing a gap between the joints of three panels. The panels were over 25mm thick here. The sight made the work party shudder at the thought of the forces involved. 

In the enforced silence caused by the unserviceable computer controlled communications system, Seven of Nine lead the team to the bottom of the hole and looked up at the underside of a mass of weed. She was impatient to get started, but recognised the danger presented from the jagged plate. She played her phasor on the sharp corners, to ease the edges off before a crewman placed a ladder at the foot of the aperture.

Once happy that the worst of the danger from ripped suits had been dealt with, she turned the phasor on the weeds overhead. Cutting a path through into the night sky. From there she could ascend the steps until she was floating freely above the ship.

Once outside the suits internal communication systems were able to take over in place of the computer controlled comms system. It meant they were now able to converse freely.

The ships a ball of weed! A crewman's voice exclaimed.

How are we going to clear this? Another demanded.

Seven allowed them a couple of seconds to get their exclamations out the way and gain their bearings, before bringing them to order. 

Ensign Hemmark had coated their suits with the fungicide he thought would slow the advance of the weed. But they had several hours work ahead of them. They would still have to work quickly for safety. Her suit had become infested with the weed within thirty minutes on her first trip out and vision had been totally lost within an hour.

First they had to clear an area to sit the emitters on the deck. That in itself was not an easy task. The weed at this point was over nine metres deep and almost impenetrable. They had to hover over the sites she chose and effectively bore through the bed of weed with phasors. But as a hole seemed to form it was almost immediately closed again by the weed as if sensing the space being formed. It reminded her of the story she had heard the Colonel tell Naomi, about the never ending tasks that seemed to befall the hero's of ancient Greek mythology.

After thirty minutes of trying to create sites for all eight of the emitters they had brought out, Seven gave up and rearranged her plans. They would have to reduce the size of the initial test. Instead she concentrated on creating larger gaps and aimed to place four units. 

Using the combined fire from five phasor rifles they eventually created four holes through the weed about 1.5 Metres diameter. Through one such hole she plunged with the first emitter, slammed it on the deck and activated it, before leaping for the rapidly diminishing hole above her. She was caught as she shot out of the aperture by the rest of the crew. Behind her the gap closed completely.

The same approach was used on the second and third holes. The fourth hole she was not so lucky. As she leapt for the gap, she saw it close above her. Unable to stop she slammed into an almost impenetrable net of entangled weed.

Seven of Nine! She heard the exclamation.

A crewman fired his phasor into the weed, desperately trying to cut her free.

Stop that, you fool! You could hit her! Then there will be hell to pay!

There will be hell to pay when the Colonel finds out anyway! The crewman muttered nervously. We're supposed to be protecting her. Have you any idea what he will do with us?

Above the commotion Seven of Nine raised her voice. It hadn't been trained by years on parade grounds, like the Colonel's, but could be equally powerful. I am not in immediate danger, She reported, feeling the weed wrapping itself around her. Start releasing compressed air into the area enclosed by the force fields. When there is an atmosphere, it will be possible to work without survival suits.

What about you and the Colonel? They almost chorused in protest.

His reaction will be more severe if he believes you have failed to carry out a direct order. She almost cherished the statement. Unlike most of the crew, who thought that Seven of Nine came above all else in the Colonel's life. She knew, that duty and his belief in discipline came above his desire to protect her. The fact that his priorities always seemed to lay the other way around, was more of a function of how he weighed the relative time schedules and happy accident.

Open all the tanks, she insisted. Direct then towards this location along with the heaters. Then get the additional piping from the ship installed.

Reluctantly her team complied, manhandling portable heaters and tanks of compressed air through the gap they had burnt from the ship.

Nervously, Seven of Nine watched the readings on her tricorder. If the shield emitters had produced a gas tight envelope, then the tanks of air they had brought with them should be sufficient to create an almost normal atmosphere. Probably several times over, considering their much reduced test area. But it would take some time. Once it was achieved, Voyager could pressurise and keep it pressurised itself.

Slowly the tricorder started to register the creation of an atmosphere. It wasn't going to be perfect she realised, there was a small leak somewhere. But it was going to be within the tolerance that Voyager could maintain.

The weed that bound her seemed to twitch hard and tighten, making her drop the tricorder as a glove was pulled off. It twitched harder and pulled outwards, stretching her, making her gasp as the tension increased on her limbs.

  


Where is Seven? Captain Janeway demanded as soon as the work party reappeared to start connecting air lines from the ship.

She was trapped by the weed! A nervous crewman announced. We couldn't get her out.

She swore, grateful that the Colonel was not still waiting with her. He had left soon after they had lost sight and contact of the work party, she was not certain where, but was certain that he would be listening to and for her over their private link. 

Is she safe? She demanded.

She was also certain he would reappear any moment, in a vile mood and ready to dive to her rescue. 

She didn't appear to be in serious distress, Ma'am. But tied up.

How close to a normal atmosphere is it out there? She queried urgently

Still thin, Ma'am, the crewman reported.

Find as many security personnel as possible. Bring them here at the double. Fully armed! We have to stop him! She screamed at the crewmen standing around. The rest of you get the pipe work connected.

Four security personnel appeared quickly, but they were followed almost immediately by the Colonel. He looked as though he was dressed for hand to hand combat.

Stand down, Colonel! Captain Janeway demanded as soon as he appeared.

I'm sorry, Ma'am. I can not do that! He responded neutrally, regarding the Captain and the serried ranks of the Security Team and senior ships officers with detached disinterest. 

I will order security to restrain you if you do not, she warned.

I would find it regrettable if you felt the need to do so, Ma'am, he said calmly. I would have to respond in a like fashion and I do not posses a Stun' setting. 

The warning was obvious and she could see the nerves in the Security Team.

We will get her out, as soon as it is safe to do so, she assured him. Watching his eyes carefully. That was what he had taught her, watch the enemies eye's for a signal. The Colonel's were a mixture of distraught concern and hardening fury.

Mrs Nine is in some pain, Ma'am. She reports that she is trapped and being pulled apart by the weeds, he claimed quietly trying to reason his way forward. She advises that her suit is compromised and there is adequate air pressure for unsuited movement, provided air sets are worn. I am equipped for such activity. Please let me past?

Wait for a fifteen minutes? She pleaded. Until we can get the airlines fixed?

I am prepared to wait for five minutes. For another person to don an air set, he agreed. But no longer! After that I am going through. Even if I have to cut my way through the crew to do it, Ma'am.

How will you get to her? She demanded.

The Colonel drew his sword. I've cut down more than people with one of these, Ma'am. There is some gravity caused by the force field outside now. I'll get through.

He flinched suddenly and the Captain saw him mouth something silently. Guessing he was trying to send something to comfort Seven, she came to a decision.

Get me an emergency air set! She demanded.

You can't be serious, Kathryn! Chakotay protested coming to his senses.

The Captain nodded quietly. Somebody will have to stop him doing something that gets him killed, she pointed out.

I'll go! B'Elanna volunteered. I can use a Bat-el-eth.

You're needed here! Janeway spat.

I'll go! Tuvok spoke up. That will be acceptable Colonel?

The Colonel handed him a shorter blade as he donned the Breathing Apparatus. This is the sword bayonet I gave Mrs Nine some time ago, Commander, he explained. It isn't upto hacking through the jungle as such. But it will keep a path clear. Follow close enough behind me to keep in the clearing, but far enough away to avoid me cutting.

Tuvok acknowledged.

There is only sixty minutes air in these sets, B'Elanna commented as she moved to check that the Colonel had secured his correctly. But we should be able to pump air inside that time. It will still be thin, but you won't suffocate. If you don't do anything silly.

He nodded and started to move impatiently towards the impromptu force field airlock. I never do anything silly, he hissed.

Tuvok followed him with more circumspection, then more quickly when he realised just how fast the Colonel was likely to go. The Colonel was already working on the weed bank and over a metre in, before he was clear of the hole. He also noticed that the Colonel had not pulled his face mask down yet. He called out to remind him.

I'll put it on when I need to, Commander, he gasped, pulling the mask down to take several deep breaths before sliding it up out the way again. Until then it's in the way!

Realising there was little point in arguing with the intent soldier, Tuvok settled down to follow him and trim back anything he missed in his inexorable progress. 

As he did so, he studied the Colonel's movements with growing interest. The seemingly wild strokes of the blade were actually forming an intricate figure eight, as he sliced diagonally across their path. Each stroke finishing in a position to give impetuous to the next. Although the Colonel was obviously expending a great deal of energy, none of it was being wasted.

  


Seven of Nine had not intended to signal her predicament to her husband. But the shock of losing her gauntlet and having her wrist grabbed again by another length of weed had jolted a moments panic from her. It in turn had broadcast itself through her Borg neural links to the transmitter. From there, it was inevitable that the Colonel would pick it up and react.

Until he arrived, she would have to endure her situation. So she settled to examine what she could. It seemed obvious that the weed was reacting to the increased atmosphere. It was showing signs of the burning that was obvious on the remains on the ship. It was also contracting. Thus the fronds that held her were being pulled tighter. 

The contracting weed was dragging her lower. Not a bad thing in itself, she reasoned. It meant she would not have to drop so far, if and when she was released. Unfortunately it seemed she was being pulled down towards the field emitter, now less than three metres below her. The aerial of which, she knew, would not only puncture her suit, but her as well. Destroying the device into the bargain. The remaining three emitters would not be able to maintain the force field, thus she and her would be rescuers would be left suffocating in space.

What was not so evident was how and why the weed seemed to be able to grip and regrip her. There were bindings around arms, legs and waist. It was only because the metallic space suit was a comparatively loose fit on her frame that she wasn't in extreme pain. But the suit was slowly being torn apart whilst she was wearing it. Every time the suit gave a frond seemed to re-tighten itself around her struggling body. Already her other gauntlet had been pulled off and she could feel the heavy boots pulling away from her.

All this she relayed to the Colonel. There was some comfort in the feeling that there was somebody listening and responding to her discomfort.

She tensed again as the weed contracted. She could hear the seam of the suit tear as it finally gave up the unequal struggle. Then she felt the first suit leg start to slide down her leg.

There was a couple of minutes respite in the continuous tension, before another frond of weed caught her leg again around the thigh and applied tension again, making her gasp.

I'm coming! She heard the Colonel whisper in her mind. We're nearly a third of the way there.

Arrive quickly! She hissed at him in her desperation.

  


The Colonel's progress was becoming slower. The weed bank he was fighting was becoming progressively thicker and he, himself, was becoming tired. He was having to stop, rest and ease his burning lungs by dragging on the air mask more frequently now. They had barely made 15 Metres in fifteen minutes. And they had at least twice that to complete.

Finally he pulled it down on his face and kept it there. That in its turn created another problem. The visor steamed up because of the sweat that was trickling freely down his face, almost totally blinding him.

Finally he ripped it of his face and tried to spit into it as he had seen naval divers do, to prevent their masks misting up. Except he could not raise any.

I'm sorry, Commander, he gasped. I don't suppose you could spit in this for me. Please? He offered up the visor for Tuvok.

Tuvok regarded it and the Colonel in incomprehension.

I need to stop it misting, the Colonel explained quickly, his breathing ragged. A bit of spit can stop it.

Dumbly the Vulcan lifted his mask and complied, depositing a small dollop of mucus onto the centre of the visor. The Colonel promptly smeared it around and put the mask back on a again.

Thank you, Sir.

You should rest for a few minutes, Tuvok suggested. You will allow me to continue?

If you think you can? The Colonel agreed, not too willingly.

Quietly he handed his blade to Tuvok.

He took it and tested its weight carefully and found it too long and heavy for him to be able to handle comfortably. I will use a phasor, he decided, pulling his out.

You can't! The Colonel protested in alarm. 

But it was too late. Tuvok had fired a burst into the weed.

A path seemed to appear as the weed frizzled away from the weapons fire, but immediately seemed to spring back again with renewed growth.

Do you think I hadn't thought of that! The Colonel declared. 

You do not like modern weapons. You actively avoid using them, Tuvok responded pointedly.

I'm not such a heathen I won't use the most appropriate tool for a job, the Colonel blasted back. From what Mrs Nine was telling me. If you melt a way through this stuff, it simply springs straight back, only thicker and tougher. We are going to have to do this the old fashioned way. That way it stays cut! He indicated the path they had come down. It was closing, but slowly. They could just see where they had entered. Of the hole that Tuvok had cut with his phasor there was nothing to be seen.

Reluctantly Tuvok picked up the Colonel's sword and advanced towards the wall of weed, taking a cautious swipe at it.

Put your back into it, Commander, the Colonel hissed. Once the blade is moving it's weight will do most of the cutting. Swing from your back and shoulders, not the elbow!

Tuvok attempted to comply and almost spun himself around as he missed the foliage in front.

I think you need practise. But, with respect, this is not the time to gain it, the Colonel suggested, disarming the shocked Vulcan.

Your blade is heavy, ill balanced and there is insufficient gravity! Tuvok protested.

That is why it is effective, the Colonel answered him sweetly, setting too on the weed again with renewed vigour.

  


Aboard Voyager Captain Janeway had started to pace the corridor impatiently. She did not know what was happening outside, they had lost contact with the Colonel and Tuvok the moment they had left the ship and she was fighting her nerves and unpleasant visions of what might be happening both to them and Seven of Nine. Guessing at his Captains worries Chakotay fell in beside her. The Colonel will get to her! He whispered encouragingly. Even if he has to cut down all of the weed outside!

The Captain grinned weakly. I don't doubt he can get to her, she admitted. And that he will look after Tuvok. I think I'm more worried about what we do afterwards. Given the problems clearing a small section of the hull. How are we going to clear the rest!

B'Elanna Paris's attention was drawn away to another problem as Lieutenant Vorick arrived with a report. They went into a small whispered conversation, before B'Elanna turned to the Captain.

There is weed in the Computer Room, she announced simply.

The Captain demanded quickly.

A couple of seed pods from the samples in the labs burst, Ensign Hemmark reported. We never found any of the seeds. They must have gotten into the ventilation system.

But we've taken that deck off life support, B'Elanna pointed out. There could be a breach on that deck.

Flood it with air again. Then spray everything with Hemmark's fungicide, the Captain demanded. Something must work!

  


It was a sentiment that the Colonel would have agreed with. After nearly an hour of frantic chopping, he and Tuvok had reached the emitter that Seven of Nine had thought she was being pulled down upon. The weed had grown densely around it, but strangely had not actually engulfed it. This led to Tuvok kneeling beside it and examining the unit with interest and a tricorder. The fact was of little interest to the Colonel.

Where are you, Seven? He yelled, ripping the mask off for the last time. The air was now sufficient to breath without burning the lungs.

A weak voice, almost a whisper came from one side.

He turned towards it. Call again Mrs Nine! He shouted.

She did so, but it seemed weaker. He plunged towards it, desperately ripping his way through the weed with his hands.

He found her five minutes later, spread-eagled over a dull red mound. Legs, arms and helmet lashed tightly to the sides of it with what looked like vines. Her back was arched uncomfortably over the mound, with more vines, preventing her from struggling. The helmet appeared to be all that was left of the space suit that she had worn when she left the protection of the ship. The mound seemed to be pulsing quietly when he felt it.

He knelt beside her and quickly released the visor, then removed the helmet, to reveal her agonised and pale face. Her breathing was shallow from the thin atmosphere and her bonds restricting her breathing. He tore off his mask and placed it over her face.

I'm here! he whispered. Two minutes and I'll cut you out!

You are late, she complained huskily.

Commander Tuvok! He yelled. I need help!

Without further words, he set about her bonds with his pocket knife. They were too tough for the small tool to cut.

It is displaying signs of being partially animal, Tuvok commented, kneeling beside him and scanning the mound with his tricorder. There are digestive juices inside and a recirculatory system.

The way it is going, I think it intends to be at least part Seven of Nine, the Colonel hissed. Now shut up and hand me the bayonet and make sure it doesn't get cute. You can decide what it is later.

Silently the Vulcan complied to the request. The Colonel set to again, this time using the saw edge of the blade.

It was still hard work, vines like tentacles grabbed at his hand and blade as he worked. Eventually he released the bindings around Seven of Nines hands and throat, but they were growing again nearly as fast. Tuvok was working hard to keep them trimmed to prevent them taking hold again. 

I've had enough of this! The Colonel snarled at last, as the bayonet was ripped from his hand for the umpteenth time by a vine. This thing has vines like arms and they are as tough as steel.

He stood stiffly and drew his sword again. If I can't cut it at the edges. I will have to try something else.

With that he plunged the steel blade into the side of the mound and started to rip through its side.

A thin piercing scream assailed them as a surge of slime spurted from its side, splashing onto his trousers, where it started to steam.

The Colonel exclaimed. Now let the lady go you bastard before I rip all your guts out!

He dropped to his knees again and frantically pulled at the bonds holding Seven of Nine. They came away easily now. And he gathered her up into his arms, feeling the mounds sticky juices over back.

You can examine it as much as you like now, Commander! He exclaimed. I've got what I came for.

I really can't leave you alone for a moment, can I? He whispered to Seven. Always getting tied up with bug eyed monsters. Apart from the rather erotic pose, is there anything you would like to share?

It did not feel erotic, she responded. It wished to consume me!

So it had good taste! We'll have to try it sometime! The Colonel grinned. Shall we go!

The fluid from the plant is acidic and fuming. Departure is a wise precaution, Tuvok agreed.

The Colonel laid Seven on the ground, then still holding her he felt in his pocket for his lighter. He tossed it to the Vulcan before picking her up again. "Try setting it alight."

"The creature is showing signs of sentience. It was physically attempting to prevent us hurting it!" Tuvok protested.

"Which is the more important? Voyager and her crew or Star Fleet rules and something that didn't exist a week ago? Personally I find your comments unfathomable, it is a clear and present danger to the ship. Set it alight!" The Colonel snarled heading back for the ship. "If you don't. I'll come back later and do it."

Reluctantly Tuvok fired the lighter and placed the flame against the slime from the mound. He would have preferred to study the creature more closely to finalise his Tricorder readings. It flared with green flames and spat at him, causing him to throw himself back from it, then stumble hurriedly to his feet as the weed around them started to flare as well.

"Always knew there was a simple answer," the Colonel muttered under his breath as they stumbled away, following the remains of the path that the he had hacked. Tuvok now leading using the Colonel's sword to slash away at the worst of the encroaching weed. 

Behind them more of the weed flared, causing them to pick up the pace as they felt the heat build behind them. The going easier now that the worst of the tangle had gone and Tuvok no longer had to try and use the Colonel's wide swings.

  


The Captain was still pacing the corridor, waiting for them when they finally reappeared thirty minutes later. 

How is she? She demanded immediately, frustrating Tuvok's attempt to report his findings.

Bruised, Ma'am. What we found out there seemed to find her tasty, The Colonel reported. With your permission I will take her with me to Sick Bay. I assume you will want me to return to my cell there? Or would you prefer to see me in the Brig for threatening you and the crew?

Take her to Sick Bay, she agreed immediately. You had better treat her if you can and stay there. Things have become a little more complicated.

I want a full report in an hour, she turned and hurried after the rapidly disappearing Colonel.

  


He had already placed Seven of Nine on a medical bench and begun his examination by the time she arrived, breathless, in Sick Bay.

"How is she really?" She gasped.

Seven rolled to face the Captain. "I will be in a satisfactory condition after repair. The test appears to have failed."

Picking up a swab the Colonel started to remove the slime that the mound had deposited upon her back. Finding it had at least started to penetrate her catsuit he started to cut it away. 

"I wouldn't say that," he remonstrated. "Could I ask you to persuade the replicator for a new set of clothes for Mrs Nine, Ma'am?"

The Captain busied herself with the replicator. 

"The weed wasn't affected by the introduction of air, so it was a failure!"

The Colonel pulled a strip of Seven of Nines suit away from her back and started to treat the superficial burn he found there. "But it was damaged by fire. That was the purpose of the experiment, to find what killed it. We simply added an extra test. That is what you call adaptability."

Satisfied with Seven of Nine's treatment, he put the last swab aside and gently lifted her to the floor.

The Captain suddenly felt she was interrupting a tender moment hurriedly handed Seven her newly replicated suit and headed for the door, whilst Seven stripped the remains of her clothing. "When you are through, Staff meeting in the Conference Room," she called as she disappeared.

The Captains departure gave the Colonel the clearance he needed. He gathered the now naked Seven up into his arms, holding her close and kissing her passionately. "I do wish you wouldn't scare me like that! Going and getting yourself hurt!" he whispered.

She grunted as he squeezed, then responded, wrapping her own slender arms around him, squeezing back, before laying her head on his shoulder. "There was no danger. You were there to protect me."

He smiled gently. "I will always be there for that. Now if you care to get dressed perhaps we can have a look at the damage we caused outside before the Captains committee. 

She squeezed again and kissed harder before releasing and starting to don the replacement clothing.

  


The Captain was almost happy when she finally sat down in the progress meeting she had called. For the first time in four weeks it looked as though there might actually be something positive to be achieved, rather than what had become a regular drudge of failures and patching.

She smiled encouragingly at the table, it widened when the Colonel with Seven of Nine on his arm entered and escorted her to her usual seat.

She started with. "I understand we have a means of dealing with the weed outside?"

Tuvok straightened. "We believe we have found a way to deal with the weed. But we may not be able to use it," he reported agreed guardedly.

She looked at him in surprise. "How so?" She demanded. 

"It is evolving into intelligent life."

It isn't plant life? Chakotay exclaimed.

During the early stages, it is, Tuvok explained. But when it matures it evolves into a creature. The stage of evolution it was in when we rescued Seven of Nine, suggested it was not unlike an anemone from Earth. Digesting material externally.

So what does it eat? Chakotay asked.

That is unclear. The Colonel killed it when releasing Seven of Nine, Tuvok admitted. "However I have reviewed the tricorder log. The readings are conducive to the formation of intelligent life."

The meeting sat up in alarm at the announcement. The Colonel winced before speaking. "That is a little irrelevant, isn't it? By the time we are in the position to invite it to tea and crumpets, there may well be nothing left of the ship!"

"What level of intelligence is it showing?" The Captain asked cautiously.

"That is unclear, Captain. The rate of evolution is highly accelerated."

"So if we killed it now, it wouldn't actually be initiating a war between two cultures?" she suggested slowly.

"They have not evolved in to an organised society yet," he admitted.

She slammed her hand flat on the table. "In that case I am not going to worry about it, and nor are you!"

"How do we deal with it?" Chakotay asked uncomfortably.

"Burn it," the Colonels answer was simple and direct. "Then you can shovel the remains over the side."

"But we would have to introduce oxygen to the whole of the outer hull. We can't produce enough air!" B'Elanna protested.

"The Colonel and I have examined the weed that was destroyed," Seven reported. "It is capable of supporting combustion in its natural state when combined with the atmosphere that has formed naturally around the ship."

"So how do we set fire to it?" Chakotay challenged. "We can't use phasors. They don't seem to work on the weed."

The Colonel shook his head in disagreement. "They work, its just they work too well. They don't set fire to anything because the beam is too hot. What we need is a flame thrower."

"A What?" They demanded together.

"Another of your prehistoric weapons, Colonel?" The Captain questioned.

"A little before me actually, Ma'am. But yes. I need a tank of volatile spirits, one of propellant and considering our particular situation one of oxygen so we get a flame. We simply play a jet of flame across the weed and perhaps put some sausages over the fire so we can have a barbecue whilst we're doing it."

A faint smile appeared on several faces at the weak joke.

"B'Elanna, when can we put the required parts together?"

She shrugged. "A couple of hours."

"Isn't it going to be dangerous?" Tom Paris queried. "From what I heard the stuff almost exploded when you set light to it!"

"I'll stand off from the ship when using it, hundred feet or so should be enough. I will need somebody to stop me wandering off though?"

"You also seem to be sure it will be you I send out?" The Captain mused.

"My idea, Ma'am. And you are going to need several teams."

"I'll decide," she corrected him gently.

She changed the subject. "The weed in the Computer Room?"

"The fungicide seems to be working. The green moss is dying. The rest we are pulling out by hand," B'Elanna reported. 

"And the Computer?"

"Miller promises full comms capability in a few hours. Propulsion systems in two days, then he will work on the rest as new packs become available. He wants help from Seven and Harry for sorting out Astrometrics and Navigation, with view to making some changes in the code to improve response."

The Captain sighed in approval. "Sounds good. We are at last getting somewhere! Dismissed!"

She signalled at Tuvok to remain as the rest filed out the room.

She crossed her arms and regarded him sternly until the door closed. "What is your problem with the weed? Why are you so against us escaping it?"

"It is an intelligence, Captain," he declared.

"Not yet it isn't!"

"It's current rate of evolution suggests it will achieve one in a matter of days. We will be in direct violation to Star Fleet protocols."

"We've been closer than this to direct violation with protocols," she mused, scratching her chin in thought. "There is more than protocols in this. Isn't there?"

The Vulcan shifted uncomfortably but remained silent, leaving her guessing.

"What is it?" She demanded.

Still he was silent.

She started to pace the room in frustration. "Tuvok. We have been together for more years than I want to remember. I trust your opinions, they help keep me on the level and in line. In this case, I think," she paused. "I think you are being over sensitive to the rules."

"You believe the Colonel is correct?" Tuvok broke his self imposed silence.

"In this case." She stopped suddenly as gears ground to a halt. "You are worried about the Colonel?"

Tuvok considered returning to silence again, but seeing his Captains look decided against it. "The Colonel performs as I would expect. Impetuously and erratically. Yet you appear to value his advice, even though it is often contrary to Star Fleet Regulations. Regulations you have sworn to uphold."

"Is that jealousy Tuvok?" She questioned. "I try to follow the advice that is going to keep this ship and crew safe, that is also in the Regulations."

She tapered off and thought for a few moments to consider the level of support she took from the Colonel. Over the last six months she had relied heavily upon him. He had an almost magical ability to understand people, even redirect them, like he had with her a few days ago, putting her with Naomi. "I do value his advice," she admitted softly, almost apologetically. "He is unique aboard this ship. I have you, B'Elanna, Seven, Harry Kim. All of you can and do give me valuable advice with the technologies and I couldn't survive without it. But he understands people in a way none of us do, that is proving even more important just now. You have seen him interacting with the crew, how he seems to win their confidence and calms them. You have brought 14 crewmen to me for disciplining in the last few weeks, he reported two. That isn't because he doesn't see the same things you do. He sees more because he prowls the decks looking for things to do."

"Perhaps you should make him head of Security, Tuvok suggested stiffly.

The Captain glared at him for a moment. You are head of Security and it stays that way. He continues to report to you and Chakotay where there is a problem that needs to be dealt with, She snapped.

And his disregard for Star Fleet Regulations?" Tuvok demanded.

"We haven't been totally true to them either," she pointed out. "You have pointed out the benefit of his alternative view."

Tuvok nodded thoughtfully. "I am sorry, Captain. I was in error. I will assist the Colonel with his operation to clear the ship."

He left the room.

  


The Colonel greeted Tuvok with some caution when he arrived for suiting two hours later. "I thought you would be sick of me, Commander?"

"My state of health is irrelevant, Colonel. You will require assistance. You have a plan? He started to strap himself into a suit and thruster pack.

The Colonel grinned, snapping the last buckle from the three tanks he wore to fuel his flame thrower. "I thought I would jet off into the Cosmos and set fire to everything I saw."

"I fail to see the reason for levity," Tuvok criticised pausing for a moment in the complicated ritual. "You obviously have a more realistic plan?"

"We will attack the main aft airlock, then the rest of the crew can exit in more comfort than through the holes. After that we will have to see how far the gas goes," the Colonel agreed, turning off the humour for Tuvoks benefit.

"And the levity?"

"Traditional." He admitted, checking the makeshift torch and its firing mechanisim. He had given up his petrol lighter so that Lieutenant Torres could replicate an ignition system

Silently they trooped out, back through the hole the of the breach in the ships hull before Tuvok set his thrusters and pulled the Colonel off the deck.

Ten minutes later Tuvok brought them to a hover about 100 Metres above the weed and pointed. "The airlock is approximately there."

The Colonel grunted an acknowledgement before activating the flame. "I have no idea how much kick this is going have," he commented. "If we don't blow up we could blast ourselves into tomorrow."

"I am prepared for the situation," Tuvok assured him.

A long streamer of flame appeared from the Colonel as he activated the torch. It arched towards the weed encrusted ship, but did not reach.

"Take us 20 yards closer," he called.

"It will put us in danger from the flare of the plants," Tuvok commented.

"You want to live forever. Take us closer. When it catches let the torch blast us clear."

Reluctantly Tuvok complied taking them to within 50 metres of the waving fronds before the Colonel fired again. The weed caught fire in an explosion of green flame. In alarm Tuvok activated his suit again as they were engulfed by the expanding fire. 

They came to a halt again nearly 200 metres above and hovered silently as they watched the fire engulf the ship.

"That appears to work rather better than expected. I don't suppose you brought a pack of cards? this looks as though its going to take some time," the Colonel commented. 

In his helmet he saw Tuvok shake his head in annoyance.

"Just out of interest what temperature will the hull stand?" He tried again.

"Sufficient."

Accepting he wasn't going to get the taciturn Vulcan to talk amiably, he settled into silence. Together they continued to watch until the flames started to die down an hour later.

From their vantage point they could see the extent of the damage they had caused. The lower side of the saucer appeared to have completely burnt out, along with much of the forward end of the Engineering section.

"Given it is going to take thirty minutes to clear the airlock so the doors work, I think we had better call it quits?" the Colonel suggested mildly.

"Our air supply will be depleted in that time frame," Tuvok agreed powering them both back to the ship. 

From the altitude they were at they could clearly make out the area of the air lock, but it started to merge with the rest of the blackened weed as they descended. He had to rely upon the Colonel infront of him to guide him to their target area. 

"You are certain we are in the right location?" Tuvok demanded as they burrowed in the embers, the burnt weed breaking into ashes as he swept his arms around.

"Fairly. I think I have the door seam."

Together they etched out the outline of the door, then Tuvok dug out the external door controls, whilst the Colonel explored a little further afield. He came hurrying back at Tuvoks command as the door activated.

"I think we will have to get it brushed off quickly," he gasped. "The bloody stuff is starting to grow again!"

Quickly they fell into the lock and waited for it to cycle, before falling out again to be met by a suited Chakotay and the next work parties.

"You won't need so many burners," the Colonel briefed him quickly, tearing the helmet from his head in relief. "But you do need to clear the hull quickly. It's determined to grow."

"We'll get right on it," Chakotay assured him. "And well done!"

They watched the next party enter the lock before turning to remove the remains of their suits.

"I think a cup of tea would be an ideal refreshment," the Colonel proposed. "Will you join me Commander. I still have some of the real stuff in my billet? And it will give us a chance to talk honestly?"

Tuvok considered refusing the offer, briefly, then accepted, cautiously following the tall soldier to his quarters.

"As Seven isn't here at the moment, could I ask you to bully the replicator into producing boiling water, milk and sugar please, Sir?" The Colonel requested as they entered. "The pot is on the table, I'll dig in my pack for the leaves."

Silently Tuvok complied, then watched curiously as the Colonel went through his strange ritual of brewing tea the 'English' way.

"Milk and sugar, Commander?" He offered.

Tuvok shook his head.

"I'll leave it out, you may need it. It is stronger than Neelix's replicated stuff. Please, sit down." He pulled out a small flask and poured a small amount of brown fluid into his cup. "Rum?" He asked.

Tuvok shook his head as he complied to the Colonels request.

The Colonel seemed to think for a while. Finally he said. "I know you think I am a heathen caveman, prone to impulse and rash decisions. You would be right in those assumptions. You also think I deliberately ignore your rules and regulations. There you would be wrong. I don't, there are many things in them that are sound policy. The thing I can't and won't do is follow them blindly. It is why I have refused to be bound to them, preferring mine. You however are a good Star Fleet officer, it is your duty to follow what you believe, I respect that. But would you permit me to offer a saying to consider?"

Tuvok continued to consider him impassively.

"It says, 'Rules are for the guidance of wise men and the obedience of fools'. Which one do you fit, Commander. The weed outside might become an intelligent life form. In a million years it might become the largest benefit to the universe since the Big Bang, or whatever you think created the Universe now. Lacking a crystal ball I wouldn't know. But it would have destroyed us on the way. Personally I would rather it did it somewhere else. I rather like the friends I have."

"I owe you an apology, Colonel," Tuvok announced quietly.

The Colonel peered over the rim of his cup. "You do?"

"My extreme reaction to the destruction of the weed was inappropriate for the safety of the ship. You were correct in your assumption. My displeasure was with your attitude and ability to sway the opinions of those around you. It is my opinion it will lead the ship and crew into danger."

"The nature of the ships location, stuck in space, millions of miles from home means that danger is a fact of life, Commander. I will not deliberately increase that. If I am given the opportunity I will try to simplify the danger and if it is a problem I cannot deal with and others are better qualified, I try not to get involved. Like the solar flare we ran into a few months ago. I couldn't talk to or fight it, so I stayed out the way and let you and Mrs Nine find the solution."

"Yet you involved yourself in this problem," Tuvok pointed out.

The Colonel frowned. "Which one? The computer problem. I was the intended victim of the stunt that promoted it. The weed problem I became involved because I was invited and grunt was required. The one that I picked up is the state of the crew. It let others concentrate on what they are good at. And before you accuse me of taking control, remember I always seek approval before hand and accept judgement afterwards. I accept the authority of the ship, even if I don't sign up to it!"

Tuvok considered the Colonels statement for any form of falsehood and found none. The Colonel never seemed to get heavily involved in technical problems, sometimes he asked questions, but that was as far as he went, until asked.

He rose from his chair. "Your statements are valid. I apologise, my feelings are irrational."

The Colonel copied him. "Actually I think they are perfectly rational," he commented. "You Vulcans are too controlled to be true. It is nice to see you do have emotions, they make you the same as the rest of us. And that is a comfort!"

"You would not like to see uncontrolled Vulcan emotions," Tuvok promised, moving for the door.

"But perhaps you need to release them once in a while. When you need it, just bring a second."

"That will not be necessary. The results may prove dangerous to you," Tuvoks response was stiff in its warning.

The Colonel shrugged and followed him out the door.

  


Clearing the hull of the remains of the weed to Chakotays satisfaction took another two days of hard effort. The weed re-establishing itself despite the copious of fungicide, requiring several more treatments from the flame throwers.

Miller completed his repair of the Engine control systems as promised, incorporating numerous modifications at B'Elanna's request. To the relief of the Colonel, the little Corporal built instructions into his modifications as he went. If he was caught in Engineering again, without help, he would at least have some guidance. The Captain had finally informed him of what Miller had requested to do. He had not been entirely happy about the situation, but accepted it as necessary and formally amended the Corporal Millers orders to accommodate.

Seven of Nine was kept busy, developing more computer gel packs and calculating a course for the ship with Naomi's assistance. Having to use Naomi's primitive sextant to compute a new course irked her because of the inherent inaccuracy. But she accepted the Captains comment that it was better than they had at the moment. Besides she would be able to recalculate the course to her normal 60 places of accuracy when the Astrometrics suite was brought on line again in a weeks time. And she enjoyed Naomi's childish enthusiasm, it made up for her inefficiency.

It was however a great relief to everybody, when the Captain was able to command of Tom Paris. "Set course for home, Tom. Warp 2. Engage!"

  


The Captain took her accustomed prowl around the decks before turning in for the night. She was surprised by a sound from the science lab that had been used to store the remains of weed. With some alarm and a lot of caution she approached the door and peered in, her phasor in hand, fearing the worst.

It was with some surprise that she witnessed Seven of Nine and Ensigns Ayala and Hemmark peering over a magnifier.

They span as she hailed them with an amused. "What are you three upto?"

"We wished to complete our studies of the seaweed before it completed decomposing, Captain," Seven responded neutrally.

"With some success?" The Captain asked hopefully. She had almost given up on getting definitive answers about this problem.

"We have deployed the methods advocated by the Colonel, also the reproductive life of the Salmon and have made some assumptions," Seven admitted uncomfortably. "However we have a conclusion that is logical."

"Lets have it!" She prompted.

"It is a space born life form, with at least three levels of evolution. We believe only the plant forms propagate. It is achieved initially by explosively expelling large volumes of seed from the blisters we have witnessed. These are approximately 0.5 microns in diameter and can be born by solar winds and gravitational forces. They appear to have concentrated in this sector of space because of the lack of any such influence to bear them, and attached themselves to Voyager because we formed one. The life of the seed is uncertain, however it is reasonable to suppose it can be measured in eons."

"Once it has settled on a solid object it germinates to form a fine moss. This helps attract more seed and the establishment of a weak atmosphere. As the amount of moss increases, so do the gasses, until a state appears where the atmosphere starts to pollute the moss and it evolves into the seaweed. The weed itself may also propagate by means of 'Runners'."

"So simply flooding the Computer Decks would have killed the moss?" The Captain interrupted.

"Also the weed," Hemmark claimed. "But that is where the clever part appears. When the atmosphere becomes too strong for the weed, it starts to evolve as well. This time into the anemone thing that trapped Seven. It's function is to remove the excess atmosphere as well as anything else, to allow the weed to continue to grow."

"What about the intelligence that Tuvok picked up on the tricorder?" The Captain demanded.

"It appears not to stop when it reaches the anemone life form," Ayala took up the cudgels. "But what it becomes depends upon what it has had to eat! We think in this case it was adapting to what it caught off of Seven. We tested a few samples of burnt anemone, the one that tried to eat Seven was structurally different to the others. The cell structure was similar to some of Seven of Nines nano probes. It must have 'eaten' a few with her suit!"

"So I could have ended with a half vegetable Seven of Nine?"

"Unlikely. The conditions were not suitable for such an advanced life form," Seven opined. "It would have died. However given time it would evolve into a life form that could survive in the conditions. We would have formed the core of a planet formed initially from vegetable mass."

The story was wild even for space the Captain decided and told them so.

Seven of Nine stiffened for the reposte. "The Colonel has quoted, 'If you take the facts you know and dismiss the impossible. Then what is left no matter how fanciful and improbable must be correct'. The seed was not on the hull before Voyager arrived in this sector. It developed because of a fault in the scrubbing field. It thrived particularly on the bussard collectors and field generators, because they are designed to collect matter and energy. We also know it can evolve quickly. There is no other conclusion available, unless we can obtain more data and follow the weeds life cycle over a longer period and experiment with the possibilities of the anemone evolution."

"I suppose so," the Captain agreed. "But I don't think I can report it as fact in the logs."

Seven glared at her sternly, the others looked crestfallen, making her smile. "I'll include it as a theory," she offered. "Then somebody else can try and prove it wrong. Put samples in stasis jars and we can come back to it another day. Good Night."

She turned to leave, but was stopped by Hemmark. "How is your bed doing, Captain?" He inquired.

"I have a few shoots germinating. But nothing like the success in Hydroponics."

He smiled knowingly and handed her a small pot. "Sprinkle this over it. It does wonders."

"What is it?" She asked curiously trying to pear into it.

"Just sand. It's not scientific, so you won't believe me if I told you why I think it works and nobody has come up with a better solution."

She smiled, taking the hint and left them. She still wasn't going to list the theory about the weed as solid fact though.

  


It was a day later that the Colonel witnessed what he wanted to see. Seven had invited Tom Paris to join them for dinner in the Mess. Possibly out of compassion for the young man in the face of B'Elanna's continued intransigence. 

They had hardly started when B'Elanna appeared nervously and sat with them. Her face was tired and lined, but there was a fire of mischief behind her eyes that the Colonel had not seen for some time. He watched her with acute interest, but said nothing.

"Tom, I owe you an apology. I should not have let myself go like I did. If you can spare the time. I would like some help, Please?"

Tom managed to look alarmed and happy at the same time. "Sure. When?" He spluttered.

"Now would be good?"

"I think this is your cue Lieutenant," the Colonel commented. "Neelix's food won't taste any worse tomorrow."

Tom's face broke into a wide grin. "I'm coming Ma'am."

"That is the worst of the ships problems dealt with," the Colonel commented wryly as he and Seven watched them scurry from the Mess. "Would I be correct in thinking you had something to do with it?"

"Lieutenant B'Elanna Paris sought my advice on the subject of loneliness," Seven answered sagely. "I informed her it was undesirable and unnecessary."

"So?" 

"She thought that she owed Lieutenant Tom Paris an apology. I arranged for Holodeck 2 to be made active for three hours tonight, with a suitable programme."

The Colonel laughed suddenly. "Would that involve moonlight, sand and gentle breakers?"

"It is romantic!" She protested.

He tapped her gently on the nose. "You are becoming as big a schemer as I am! And an incorrigible romantic. I can see I will have to do something about it." He leaned over and kissed her, "Shall we commence treatment?"

She looked startled for a moment, then nodded as the implication struck her. "Acceptable."

  


Tom Paris followed his spouse curiously. It was evident that she wasn't heading for quarters, Engineering or the Computer Room. Instead she entered Holodeck 2.

He followed her in a state of confusion. "What do you need to do here? They aren't active."

B'Elanna turned to him. "I told you, I need some help," she stated. Then shouted into the darkness. "Miller!"

The Corporals beach programme came to life around them.

"I want help to jump through the waves!"

Tom's face was a picture of confusion as he gazed wildly around him. "The holodecks are out of bounds!" he protested.

"This one isn't for the next three hours and the Captain won't find out. Seven and Miller have seen to that," she assured him, pulling him closer.

"This is Seven's idea!"

"Enough talking," she insisted pulling him towards the sea.

  


  


  


  


Revision 14

   [1]: mailto:story@rgower.f9.co.uk



	3. Child of Thunder

1-23 Child of Thunder Child of Thunder 

_Q makes an appearance, requesting Voyagers help to protect a child from a higher plain'. Seven of Nine makes a declaration, that makes the Captain uncomfortable. Whilst Voyager takes refuge on an uninhabited planet for repair._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The story line and the Colonel are my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail [story@rgower.plus.com][1]._

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start at the Colonel._

_This story is rated PG_

_©R Gower 2001_

  


Captain Janeway completed her evening prowl of Voyager in a glorious mood. She was now a happy Captain with a happy crew. After twelve weeks of limping along with computer failures, weed entrapment and assorted other irritations, they were finally underway. She had savoured giving the command to Tom Paris to engage the warp drive as much as when she had supplied the same command the first time she took control of the ship.

On top of that her new private garden in her quarters had finally bloomed and helped hoist her happiness to a new plateau, as her quarters were once again filled with gentle scent and colour.

Not that everything was rosy. The hull was a patchwork quilt of patches, repairs and scorch marks from the effects of the Sea Weed' and its subsequent disposal. They would have to be fixed quickly, before they attempted to do anything too extreme. There were still occasional problems with the computer. These were usually sorted out with little bother, between B'Elanna, Seven of Nine and Corporal Miller. 

Corporal Miller was still something of a mystery to her. She sometimes wondered how Seven had managed to create a programme, based upon a Twentieth Century Soldier, that seemed to be able to learn so much about the ships computer system. When she had tried asking, Seven had simply stared at her, looking superior and stated that her programme had been accurate to the parameters given by the Colonel. When she challenged the Colonel, he had simply shrugged and said. Miller was as bent as a nine bob note, Ma'am. If he wants something, he'll find a way of getting it. She did not have a clue what the phrase meant, but smiled as if she did. Then looked the phrase up in the history files and found a bob' was slang for currency in Great Britain until the later half of the Twentieth Century. Further investigation into the monetary units led her to decide the phrase was not complimentary. She had to make do with the fact that the person was devoted to his commanding officer and now, by his order, to her.

Entering the forward promenade she stooped to examine Naomi's Sextant bolted to the view port; paying it silent tribute as a monument to the degree of improvisation that could be achieved when desperate. The strange device had been their only method of navigating for nearly six weeks. It had not been accurate in the normal sense of the word, but the 160 million kilometres they had been adrift by, when Seven had finally pinpointed there position from her rejuvenated Astrometrics suite, was a hell of a lot closer than they could have been. Naomi had swollen visibly with pride, when she had told her so, then almost exploded when Seven had admitted the results had been Acceptable'.

That led her to another idle thought and not a little wonderment at how close Seven and Naomi seemed to have become over the years. They did seem to have become quite attached to each other. She did not think that it was entirely the Colonel's doing either, though their mutual fascination in him as an undiscussed topic probably went someway. They had shown some interest in each other before that.

Her philosophical mind wanderings were disturbed by a giggle from a darkened corner behind her. Cautiously she turned and peered into the gloom. The giggle might have been B'Elanna, had she been inclined to do so, but that seemed unlikely. She could just make out a shadow and moved towards it, to find both Tom and B'Elanna snuggled together on a chair, looking embarrassed.

It was her turn to blush as they tried to stand and make themselves presentable. It had never been her intention to spy upon her crews mutual affections, especially when they were married.

Tom desperately tried to refasten his jacket, but it seemed to be entangled in B'Elanna's, causing him to fumble with both. We're sorry, Captain! He spluttered. We didn't notice you come in!

Yes, you did and No you're not! The Captain laughed at them. 

You were hoping I wouldn't see you! I'm glad you two are enjoying yourselves!" She claimed fervently. There had been a time when she had distinct worries about the couple and their often stormy relationship. But you do have quarters to do that sort of thing in!

They laughed good naturedly, making room for her to sit with them. 

"We've Seven and the Colonel to thank!" Tom explained.

Sitting as offered she raised a questioning eyebrow. "Oh?"

The Colonel getting involved in their arguments, she could understand, it was what he seemed to do best, calming overheated situations. Seven getting involved seemed more unlikely.

"The Colonel made me think. Seven showed me how!" B'Elanna laughed, confusing the Captain still further. "She gets more like him everyday!"

The Captain gave up. "I don't think I'll try asking for an explanation. Where are they? Weren't they having dinner with you?"

"They left before we came here," B'Elanna explained. "She said the Colonel's leg was giving him problems again. She wanted to persuade him to see the Doctor."

"He is going to have to sooner or later," the Captain agreed. "I think it hurts quite badly."

"Actually I think she is wearing him out," B'Elanna confided with a laugh. "I told her she ought to show some restraint. Not even the Colonel has the stamina of a Borg!"

Laughing the Captain left them to their canoodling and returned to her quarters, for a peaceful if slightly lonely nights sleep.

  


Lieutenant Colonel Samuels, supported by Seven of Nine, tore at the fastenings of his jacket and yawned widely, as they limped into their quarters. 

Releasing him, she watched with concern as he limped stiffly to an easy chair and sank tiredly into it. He had been displaying these symptoms for eight days and it had prompted her to propose an early departure from their evening meal with the Paris's. He had accepted, eventually, but only after their part in the after dinner entertainment had been completed. He flatly refused the suggestion that he night be ill, even when the Captain had challenged him some days ago, passing it off as the effects of old wounds. 

Satisfied he was comfortable she turned to the replicator and negotiated the production of his elixir of life- Strong tea. Taking the resultant cup, she placed it by his side, then sat beside him, in the same broad chair, sliding her slim arm around him in a loving fashion. Automatically he responded in kind, drawing her closer.

"You should consult the Doctor regarding the stiffness," she prompted hopefully.

"One day I will understand why a young, beautiful and seemingly intelligent woman would want to be associated with an old crock like me," he said wistfully, apparently not hearing her. "My wildest and most impossible dreams as a young man have come true. I couldn't have had them filled more completely." He leant his head against hers as they gazed at the stars through the view port. He stroked her hand, his fingers just caressing her Borg 'Glove' as he described it, then traced over the scars where the technology met her flesh.

She considered the sensation and the feelings she was undergoing, as his stroking worked upwards. They seemed so pleasant, comforting. So... Natural. So different to her previous lives, both as a Borg, or even aboard Voyager. The first refused that individualism existed, the second thought that being an individual was the prime reason for existence. They were both wrong, she decided. They were both empty compared to what she felt she now had.

"Our duet tonight," the Colonel's voice interrupted her comfortable thoughts. "It voiced everything I wanted to be for you."

That set her on a new course of thought. The song 'The First One', had reflected a whole raft of sentimental sentiments a man might wish for a young woman on a first date. The first to hold her, kiss her, make her heart skip. He had definitely been those to her. He was the first to survive a dance with her as well, she remembered ruefully. Those who had accepted her challenge before had ended up in Sick Bay, as she forgot her own strength and dislocated various limbs. "My responses were accurate," she stated simply

He grinned and kissed her hair. "So delightfully blunt! Which of your ambitions do I need to arrange to fill? The Universe, or will you settle for the Galaxy," he teased gently, referring to her occasionally quoted desire to learn everything.

"I wish to reproduce."

The statement made him start in alarm, spilling the tea he was reaching for and disturbing her comfortable lounging.

"I wish to have offspring. I wish you to comply!" She reinforced. "That is acceptable?"

He settled back in the chair rather less comfortably. "Yes it is. I can think of nothing else I could wish for.

Yet you have reservations?

He considered lying. It would be the first time he had done so to Seven of Nine, he might get away with it. He decided not to, it would be a sin and a break in trust between them. He didn't want that, ever! And he wanted children at some point, but perhaps not here and now. A few, he admitted sadly.

Start with, I don't know if I have one, he admitted. You win. I'll go and see the quack tomorrow. Then we can ask for the Captains permission.

Is that necessary? She demanded in surprise.

He paused reflectively. Perhaps not for you. But it is for me. But I doubt she will refuse. Besides it is her ship we live on, it is courteous to let her know.

He pulled her closer and into a kiss. Let's make for bed, Seven. I ache.

She pulled him to his feet, guided him to their cot. Pushing him firmly down upon it, she straddled him, pinning him to the mattress. You will comply!

  


Elsewhere a smaller and much less happy ship sailed. Two of the three occupants were desperate to escape. Where to they did not care, only what was behind them was of importance. What was behind them wanted the third member of their crew, their son, as a sacrifice'. The child at the age of two, was too young to be concerned.

Right now they were particularly agitated. Their pursuers had disappeared. Not fallen behind and given up, but physically disappeared.

I think we had better slow down, Elana. The Coven have given up for the time being and the cube has disappeared, it could be anywhere. We can't risk burning out the engines. We are going to need them.

Elana viewed her husband through large doe eyes. Can we risk it, Roskov?

he admitted. But we can't afford to risk not to. If we change course and run slower we will be more difficult to detect and I know somewhere where we can hide for a while at least.

  


The Colonel, as promised, went to see the Doctor after he arose that morning. He did not have a lot of choice, the stiffness in his legs left him almost paralysed and he needed to be lifted from the bed by Seven. He marched into Sick Bay more like Tom Paris's robot from Chaotica, than his normal lithe quick march. It had the Doctor peering at him expectantly.

You decided to come for a medical opinion at last? He had been pre-warned.

Not especially. Treatment would be preferred. Then perhaps a little advice please, Sir! The Colonel responded.

The Doctor looked at him sharply. It was rare that the Colonel called him Sir', or needed to ask him for advice.

Which do you want first. Legs or advice? He demanded. The advice is don't do whatever caused the stiffness.

The Colonel glared at him. I had another quack that offered that sort of pointless advice. I damned near killed him.

The Doctor emulated a sigh and switched off his humour routines. A witty doctor seemed to be appreciated by most of his patients, but evidently not the Colonel.

Get on the bed and I'll examine you, he snapped, engaging professional harassed mode.

The Colonel almost smiled in appreciation as he complied to the Doctors demand. There were times the Doctor could be a quick learner.

He watched in passive disinterest as the Doctor silently dragged his medical tricorder over his legs and body. Finished he carefully put the device out of the Colonels reach, then quickly snapped the scanner over him before he could try and swing off the bed.

You had better have a good explanation for this, Doctor? The Colonel snapped coldly.

The Doctor nodded. There is a very good explanation. You have finally achieved it. You do have more of Seven of Nine's nano-probes than she has! She was wondering where they had gone.

Well we had better get some of them out so we can return them. Hadn't we?

The Doctor shook his head. It won't be as easy as that. They have adapted. Why you aren't a healthy drone I can't imagine.

Sick Bay to Captain!

What is the problem Doctor? Janeway's strident voice boomed out.

I have the Colonel and a problem, the Doctor intoned passively.

Can't you sort it? She asked in surprise.

It is the Colonel, do I need to say more? I will need your assistance.

On the Bridge the Captain gave a puzzled look to Chakotay and left for the Sick Bay.

What was the advice you wanted? The Doctor asked as they awaited the Captains arrival.

From his restrained position the Colonel tried to shrug, but the force field restraints held him firmly. I have a nasty feeling I already know the answer. Mrs Nine wants to have a baby. I didn't know if I could and was a little worried about what we would produce.

The Doctor managed not to look surprised. Her motherhood instincts are quite advanced, but I would not advise it at the moment.

The Colonel nodded imperceptibly as the Captain arrived.

What's the problem? She demanded briskly.

Seven appears to have been trying to assimilate her husband, the Doctor confided.

I hope you are going to clarify that?

He has thrombosis. His blood stream is full of Borg Nanoprobes.

The Captain stared at him incredulously. How? Why hasn't he changed?

I don't know. I will have to carry out tests. He has always had a few, needed them to maintain the neural link. I supervised Seven inserting them myself. But there are far too many for that! The Doctor explained hurriedly.

She turned to the Colonel with a questioning look.

He managed to look embarrassed from his recumbent position. I am sorry, Ma'am. Request to be excused from saluting. I seem to be a little tied up.

She smiled and placed her hand on his arm. I think you can be forgiven for that. Why do you think you are stuffed full of nano-probes?

He blushed deeply. Mrs Nine gets a little carried away at times, Ma'am? he offered.

She gazed back in confusion until the gears in her mind clanked into position. I think I will have to have a word with her.

The Colonel looked distressed. I would rather you didn't, Ma'am! She shouldn't have to throttle back on the rare occasion she loses control. Besides it takes two to tango.

But I can't have her doing this to you! If nothing else, if it goes on she won't have the choice, she pointed out reasonably, turning to go.

  


Chakotay looked up in surprise as the Captain strode onto the Bridge. That was quick. Not as bad as the Doctor thought?

She confided as she sat in her chair. B'Elanna is right. Seven is doing things to the Colonel. She seems to be trying to assimilate him! The problem is, he doesn't want her to know.

Chakotay shook his head. I suspect Seven already knows. She asked for an appointment to see you. I told her to come up in an hour.

The Captain flashed him grateful smile, before heading for her Ready Room. I'll go and decide what I am going to say to her.

It was going to be a deep philosophical discussion. She could feel it. How to persuade Seven not to lose control of herself, yet still feel she could act as she and the Colonel wanted. She wondered if she could persuade her to fake the results, then dismissed it, with their unique relationship it would be picked up immediately. Another thought struck her. If Seven was being as persistent as she evidently was, then there was going to be a motive. Enjoyment did not seem to be an option.

Her musings were interrupted by a voice she had not heard for some time. Kathryn, you have been interfering with the Continum again!

She looked around and found herself looking into the languid face of Q. He had materialised lounging in the easy chair next to hers. I feeling of dread filled her. Q's appearance never heralded a calm chapter in her life.

Despite that she kept her voice calm in response. I don't see how. We haven't done anything recently.

Q smirked. But you have picked up a couple of passengers that don't belong. I turn my back for a moment and you lose control.

I haven't got any passengers! She protested, then stopped as gears clanked into place. You mean Seven and the Colonel? I couldn't leave them where we found them!

I won't complain about the Borg, Q admitted. It amused us considerably the extents you went to keep it. But the Colonel. You should have left him on the Klingon vessel. I will never understand human sentimentality.

Still I suppose your actions with the time machine go someway to recompense, he added grudgingly. That could have had severe repercussions.

It was only with the Colonel's help that we solved that one, she pointed out defensively.

I suppose it was. But you failed to leave him on Earth. He would have gone.

She squirmed uncomfortably. We felt he would be better off with us.

And it kept the Borg under control?

The Captain leapt to her feet, fists clenched and shouted back. First, the Borg is human. Second, they love each other! Now what do you want?

Q did not move, but continued in patronising tones. Calm yourself Kathryn. I haven't come to split them apart, they'll do that soon enough. I've actually come to ask for your assistance.

With some effort Captain Janeway recovered her composure and settled back in her chair. Why should we help you. All you have brought us are problems!

And you deal with them so well. Just call it atonement.

She sighed. I don't trust you. But as I don't think you will go away, you might as well say what you came for.

Q smiled at her. She disliked that smile it was supercilious. This is right up your street, he informed her.

She glared at him, feeling her patience slip again. Get on with it!

Q shrugged. There is a child in this sector.

I'm sure there are a lot of children, she said, her foot tapping in impatience.

This one is of special interest to the Q and several other parties, he claimed, he was enjoying winding the Captain up.

We would rather like the other parties not to acquire it.

She waited for Q to explain, but it was not going to happen within her patience span. Why not?

Q smiled in victory, feeling that he had finally gained the Captains interest. It would be unfortunate for the Continum and the Universe if they did so.

Lets just say he does not belong in this Universe, Q failed to explain.

He's a Q?

Q exclaimed. He will be more than that!

She was about to give short shrift, then Q's last statement sank in. More than a Q? I thought you were supposed to be omnipotent?

Q for once looked uncomfortable. Even Q have limits to their power, Kathryn. We can't create Universes.

So why don't you just magic him away? she demanded.

She actually saw Q squirm in his seat, a revelation. We have been given our instructions. We must not intervene until it has reached an age where it can think for itself, the parents allow it or it becomes essential. But its parents will not see sense.

I can't imagine why not, she mused. Perhaps it is because you are supercilious. What do you expect us to do? She asked settling more comfortably in her seat.

They are on the run, so to speak. I want you to find them and keep the child safe. The notable features of your trip through this quadrant has been the fact that you seem to survive and the way people trust you.

The Captain felt her interest prick up, but tried not to show it. Who is after this child, apart from the Q?

The Borg, who you know about. And a race called the Rajek.

Thoughts of the potential dangers flooded the Captains mind and she gave vent to them. You expect us to find the child. Then persuade its parents that we can protect them from harm from enemies that are obviously too powerful for you to scare off?

Q nodded impassively. The thing I find most fascinating about humans is their persistent failure to be overwhelmed by difficulties; like their imminent destruction. Besides when you have found them I will join you for your protection.

The Captain regarded him sourly. I don't think that is a great comfort, she opined.

The door chime sounded heralding the opening of the door to permit the access of Seven of Nine.

Catching sight of Q lounging in the chair she remained uncertainly in the doorway. I was unaware you had another visitor, Captain. I will wait. I wish our discussion to be private.

The Captain stood quickly. Seven, I think you ought to meet Q, she suggested quickly. He was just about to leave! She glared at Q.

Species 294. The Q. Considered a danger to the Collective, Seven recited automatically. Their assimilation is regarded as essential. Why is he here?

He just dropped in for a cup of coffee, the Captain breezed. Q, this is Seven of Nine-Samuels. We can't help you. Say goodbye.

As if accepting her command Q vanished, much to the Captains relief. She signalled for Seven to come in and indicated a chair.

Seven of Nine stepped in, but spurned the chair, preferring to take her usual stance, hands crossed behind her back, gazing firmly at the Captain. The Captain knew what that stubborn look meant, she was about to struggle not to lose any logical and emotional argument she had prepared.

He is dangerous, Seven informed her. 

The Captain smiled. I think he thinks the same about you being aboard, she commented. I've never seen him leave as quietly as that! Have you heard of the Rajek?

I am unaware of the race, Seven admitted. 

He thinks they are dangerous as well and wants our help because of them.

Seven of Nine raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing, leading to the Captain to return to the original reasons for the interview.

You wanted to see me? She prompted.

I wish to reproduce, Seven responded bluntly. The Colonel was of the opinion I required permission to do so.

The Captain stared at her for several long moments before finding her voice. She should not be surprised by the statement, she told herself. Seven of Nine had shown mothering instincts numerous times, and obviously wanted to be a mother. The Colonel would undoubtedly want to follow his regulations, that demanded that permission be sort from his commanding officer before a family was started. So she should not be surprised by the blunt statement from Seven of Nine that formed the request. 

Have you thought about this? She asked at last, sinking into her chair and waving to Seven to do the same. It could be considered a little soon. You have barely had time to learn about each other?

We have been a collective for seven months, five days, Seven pointed out, as accurately as ever and pointedly ignoring the chair. We have been learning about each other for two years, one month, six days, before that. I believe it is unlikely that we have much else to learn.

The Captain grinned, she had heard the cries and moans from their quarters once or twice on her prowls around the ship, they had made her quite jealous at the time. I don't suppose you do, she admitted. What is the Colonel's opinion?

He admits to some reservations, but did not elucidate. He is willing, Seven assured her.

The Captain nodded. The Colonel would almost certainly be willing to attempt anything his wife demanded, reservations or not. I suspect he will be worried about the level of interference your nano-probes might supply. You've been injecting him with them, she opined confidently.

Seven of Nine stiffened slightly. She had not considered her probes, they were part of her, as such went unnoticed unless she had need of them. They will be present in the infant, she admitted uncertainly. They will enhance it! She added hopefully.

The Captain rested her jaw on her fingertips thoughtfully. She did not want to refuse the request, she did not think it would have much effect even if she did. They had both found ways around orders before. But she didn't want to see the couple suffer from an infant Borg drone either, it might spoil their hopes. Besides, she wanted something to coo over as well. A child from this couple would be perfect.

I don't want to refuse. But it's not just your probes either, she said quietly. The Colonel is also full of them. But they aren't working like yours.

I think we ought to wait and see what the Doctor finds out about the probes you've been inoculating him with first. If we can find what it is that prevents him being assimilated into a full blown drone, then perhaps? she suggested thoughtfully. 

I will assist the Doctor in his research, Seven declared turning for the door.

  


In the Sick Bay the Colonel observed the short man in a blue jacket and white trousers cautiously. He had never actually seen anybody wearing a Bi-corn hat before, along with a number of other small details, he was not sure whether to laugh or hit him for taking the rise.

The Doctor had released the scanner enabling him to sit up. But had demanded that he remain in Sick Bay until he had finished his tests. Perhaps the stranger would provide some entertainment.

Who or what are you, Sir? He asked.

You are supposed to salute a superior officer! Q claimed. I am a senior officer from your Earth.

The Colonel regarded him again eyebrow raised in puzzled surprise. Not wishing to doubt your delusions, Sir. But I have a few problems there.

Q raised a questioning eyebrow. 

The Colonel smiled slowly. The jacket is that of a Marshall in the French Imperial Guard. The sash from the artillery, and the pelise is from the French Cavalry. All of which were disbanded after the Napoleonic wars, none of which go together. If I were to accept the uniform as being genuine, I would have to attempt to kill you as being an enemy. Perhaps you would like to try again? Who are you?

Q's face registered surprise. He had hoped to intimidate the primitive by selecting a uniform he would recognise as being superior. In the event, he seemed to be as difficult to impress as Jean Luc. I am Q, he announced in the end. I am superior to primitive lifeforms.

The Colonel nodded sagely. Ah! I've heard of you. My Star Fleet friends to describe you as A pain in the Ass!' I understand that to mean you are an undesirable irritation. Like Piles?

Q was tempted to send the Colonel some where he could reconsider the remark and become more obsequious. But the steady unconcerned gaze from the Colonel suggested that it would take a lot to impress him with a simple display of power.

What do you want? .... Sir? The Colonel interrupted his thoughts. 

Q was stuck for an answer that was plausible. He had come to inspect the primitive, perhaps intimidate him. Star Fleet captains never seemed to give the respect he deserved and he wanted his ego massaging. The primitive was even worse. In the end he was forced to honesty.

I came to inspect you. I have never physically met anybody from Earth's Twentieth Century.

And see what it is that persuaded a Borg to become emotionally attached, he added as Seven of Nine entered the room.

The Colonel slid from his perch and limped over to Seven, placing an arm protectively around her before responding in a dangerously low voice. First, Mrs Nine is not Borg, she is my wife. Second, visiting hours at the zoo are over, so bugger off!

You need to learn some respect for superiors! Q snapped finding he was losing control. Perhaps I should teach you some?

The Colonel released Seven and limped towards Q. Q found himself backing up in alarm, he raised his fingers to signal the imminent disappearance of at least one person in the room and found them caught in a ham sized fist that crushed the fingers together. 

In corporeal form the body of a Q shared many of the characteristics of those around them, relying upon their reactions and innate attitude of superiority kept them safe. It usually worked, especially with humans. It meant in a physical form he could feel pain. It was a new sensation and he cringed from it as the pressure on his fingers increased.

Before you try to be clever, instead of intelligent, the Colonel suggested. It is only fair to warn you that I am sworn to the protection of Mrs Nine and this crew. I am not responsible for yours. If I believe you are responsible for any funny business that affects them, I will seek you out and it won't matter where you try and hide. I cannot promise I will be as gentle as I am being now.

He released the fingers and Q examined them nervously. They throbbed painfully at him. He glared back at the Colonel who had returned to Seven of Nines side. For once he was uncertain about his safety with humans.

I can see that this is going to be a relationship we will have to work at, he declared and disappeared.

What an irritating little man, the Colonel sighed before turning to more important matters. Could you help me back to the bunk? It was all I could do to stand. You saw the Captain?

Seven of Nine, gently but firmly, guided him back towards the bunk. Yes. She is unwilling to approve reproduction until we have discovered the nature of your assimilation.

He smiled. That's an easy one, he declared. It's called love!

She glared at him. The answer is insufficient. I will assist the Doctor to find a more scientific solution and a cure.

He reached forward to kiss her and whispered. Probe as much as you like, but keep the Doctor away!

  


We need to find somewhere to carry out repairs properly, Chakotay observed to the Captain as she returned to the Bridge after her interview with Seven of Nine. I've just finished going over the reports from the repair crews. We look decidedly second hand, with the number of jury rigged repairs. We need a month in a dry dock.

The Captain nodded absentmindedly, Q's sudden appearance was playing on her mind. She suspected he had not finished with them. I agree, but I don't think we can risk finding one, she murmured.

Tuvok, liaise with Seven of Nine. Find an uninhabited class M' planet we can hide on to carry out full repair, she called out suddenly.

Seven of Nine is assisting the Doctor with the Colonel, Tuvok pointed out impassively a moment later. She will be distracted for some time.

That was true she remembered and she agreed with the reasons. Okay, take Ensign Kim and anybody else you need from Astrometrics.

Chakotay looked at her curiously. It was unlike her to forget where a member of the crew had been detailed so soon. Her willingness to find somewhere for the landing to carry out full repair was also unusual. He asked mildly.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear. I had a visit from Q. He wants us to help him save the Universe.

You said we would help him? Chakotay guessed.

No I didn't. But you know Q. He doesn't take No' for an answer, so he will be back. I want us to be ready for what he comes with. I'll give a full briefing in the staff conference.

  


How do you rate Q's opinion that the child would be dangerous if the Borg were to capture it? Tuvok asked, when the Captain had finished explaining the events in her Ready Room during the afternoon Conference.

I don't know, she admitted. There is almost certainly something. Otherwise Q wouldn't have come. But I would have thought he would have acted anyhow, if it was extreme.

Unless he is scared of the beings that gave the original orders, mused Chakotay. The thought of something higher in the chain than Q is a revelation.

It is disconcerting, Tuvok agreed. What are your intentions, Captain?

We aren't in a position to chase around the Delta Quadrant looking for a single small ship. I intend to repair the ship and continue on our way, she claimed. If we come across them. Well... She hesitated. We'll follow standard Star Fleet procedures for a rescue, if they want it.

A number of knowing nods appeared around the room. If they came across them, the Captain would endeavour to protect them as Q had demanded. No matter what state the ship was in.

Have you found a planet for us to carry out repairs? She demanded, moving the meeting along.

There is an M' class planet within five light years, Captain. Three moons and high electro-magnetic radiation give it potential to set down and remain masked for the time required, Tuvok reported.

Plot a course that allows us to approach unseen. We'll have a look at it, she decreed. 

We have already done so, the Vulcan responded calmly. We will be in orbit in forty hours.

The Captain nodded in surprise. It was unlike Tuvok to pre-empt her instructions. She wondered if he had been taking tips from the Colonel. The security officer might not like the soldier, but he saw the value in his approach.

Chakotay and B'Elanna prepare a repair plan, that will leave us capable of regaining orbit if required. She decided before turning to the Doctor. The Colonel. When can we have him back on his feet?

The Doctor grunted. If he feels he is needed, he will be up, he observed caustically. Otherwise I want to keep him under control for at least a week. We are testing the probes in his body and comparing them against Seven's. They bare the same signature codes, so they were hers. But they have been modified beyond recognition.

How so?

They have taken the role of maintaining his body, like Seven's. They act like antibodies, if they meet anything that shouldn't be there, they attack it and either destroy it or modify it into more probes. We tested Seven's with them and they adapted themselves to match the Colonels own pattern.

Tuvok stirred in his seat. You mean he is immune to Borg assimilation?

The Doctor shook his head. Highly resistant. But not immune. 

Besides he has already been assimilated by Seven! Tom Paris smirked crudely, causing numerous guffaws from the table that were quickly suppressed as Tuvok glared uncomprehendingly at them.

The Captain hid her own amusement, in favour of getting a clinical analysis. Do we know how they came to be there?

He has had a few since Seven used modified probes to treat him when he joined the ship. She has also had to treat him with them several times since. Seven says she modified some parameters in her probe production cycle to make it easier to modify them for the next time he required treatment. He is also creating some. Since their marriage Seven thinks his inoculation may have become a regular feature. They have simply built up because they don't destroy each other and he has no way of disposing of them, the Doctor explained.

More barely suppressed grins appeared around the table, as the implication struck them.

So how do we remove them? The Captain demanded.

Seven is working on that, the Doctor assured her. She thinks we may have to fit Borg assimilation technology so he can eject them safely.

Meaning we will be making him a Borg ourselves? Chakotay challenged.

The Doctor nodded uncomfortably. If they are to continue to enjoy each others company. Otherwise she will have to modify more probes to kill the Colonels.

I think I will have to talk to them, the Captain concluded.

  


Forty-one hours later, as promised by Tuvok, Voyager entered low orbit around a small green planet. The Bridge crew waited expectantly for a result.

Some primitive wild life. Much forestation. Acceptable atmosphere, Tuvok reported the good news, as he carried out a short range detailed scan. No artificial emissions. I have detected a small clearing. It will be adequate.

Relay to Tom, the Captain instructed. Tom put us down in one piece for a change. I only want to repair what is already broken, not have a new list.

From his seat Tom Paris blushed. Aye, Ma'am! There doesn't seem to be any serious problems here. Tuvok has found us some good weather for once.

With what were now expert hands he guided the ship into the atmosphere.

Increasing structural integrity, Kim announced as the buffeting started. The ship lurched sideways and dipped, to be caught by Tom Paris as he increased power to the stabilisers. 

For their part the rest of the Bridge crew held on grimly waiting for the end of the tumult. 

At 500 Metres above the surface, Tom Paris levelled the ship, deployed landing legs and let it drift slowly to the landing point Tuvok had pinpointed. It finally came to a halt with a jolt as 700,000 tonnes of space ship hit the ground.

Captain Janeway breathed again with a heart felt sigh of relief. Landing a vessel the size of Voyager was always going to be a dangerous and nerve racking activity. This had been one of Tom's better efforts.

Not bad! Ensign Kim complimented from his station. The only damage this time seems to be some crockery and the Colonel falling off the couch in Sick Bay.

Tom looked back nervously. Didn't get hurt did he?

Kim grinned wolfishly. Seven caught him.

Captain Janeway brought them back to the matter in hand with some urgency. Tuvok, spread a security cordon around the ship. Chakotay, get the repair teams assembled. I don't want to be here for a moment longer than necessary!

  


Roskov was viewing the instruments of his small ship with some scepticism. His telepathic abilities could feel' they were still being followed, but the instruments denied all knowledge of any form of ship, or anything else unexplainable. He was wondering if the small green planet he was heading for would be as safe as he had anticipated. Perhaps they would be safer to continue past it and out into the void, he wondered.

Elana, his wife, was unaware of his concerns, but he could sense her fear. Since they had escaped from Rajah four months ago they had fled over 500 light years. All the time they had been pursued. First by ships from the Coven, the controllers of Rajah and twenty other planets. Then by a cuboid vessel, of the like he had never seen before. Yet all the time there had been a third presence. It had disappeared, briefly, a few days ago and he had allowed himself the brief hope that they had finally lost that as well. But now it was back.

He was also worried about his son, the gripping pains he seemed to be having were not just teething problems. He had gained a temperature to go with them. Yet the vague images he was receiving from him when he probed were difficult to distinguish. Concern for his son led him to a decision. They would have to land so that they could take care of him properly.

An indicator on the console flashed a warning. There was another vessel in the vicinity. With alarm he examined more displays, trying to identify it. Out of seven hundred known configurations, this one did not match any. He was uncertain whether to be grateful or not. It meant that it did not belong to the Coven. It did not seem to match any of the readings they had obtained from the Cuboid vessel either. Perhaps they might be friendly, he thought hopefully, or better still would not detect them. The last hope was dashed, when he realised it was on course to enter orbit around the same planet as he was aiming for.

Elana, sat behind him in the Tactical and Communications seat, picked up the same small blip on the screen she was watching. Perhaps they will have a Doctor for Thor? She suggested, echoing his own thoughts.

Roskov turned towards her. Even without telepathy there were times she seemed to read his mind. Do you really think so? He asked mildly.

She smiled at him. You're the telepath, you tell me? she suggested teasingly.

They are much too far away to tell, he sighed. All I know is that they don't seem to belong to anybody that has been chasing us. We will see.

  


The Colonel, under the attentive eye of Seven of Nine, joined Captain Janeway two days after landing. 

She was standing upon the outer casing above the Bridge, watching the busy repair crews carefully removing plates from the hull, in preparation for their replacement. They had removed over a score of them and the ships structural frame work could be clearly seen. Around the frame work Harry Kim could be seen carefully picking his way, tricorder levelled, looking for any signs of fault. It was a similar scene below the saucer section, only there the crew were working from scaffolding and it was Lieutenant Caerey inspecting the ships structure. She sighed, the work was going to schedule. But it was going to take several weeks, even working through the night to do the job properly and she was not sure she was prepared to wait that long. 

She turned towards the couple as they approached arm in arm and allowed herself a brief smile.

How are you feeling today? She asked.

The Colonel grinned happily. A lot better for being out of Sick Bay, Ma'am. The Doctor has permitted me gentle exercise.

How is he, really, Seven? The Colonels answers regarding his health were never reliable. He only admitted to a problem when he finally collapsed. So, as always, she sought a second opinion from the one person who would know.

80% of the surplus probes have been removed, Seven reported. The Colonel is functional. However he remains in danger from their over production.

Or assimilation by his wife, the Captain teased gently. How did you do it. The Doctor thought you might have to add more Borg technology to control them?

Both the Colonel and Seven looked uncomfortable.

We removed the probes with primitive technology. We filtered his blood through a transfusion system. Until an acceptable method of control is found, I will abstain from the circumstances that lead to the Colonels inoculation.

The Captain grinned, Seven had not sounded entirely happy with the idea of abstinence. 

Have you both considered your wish to extend your collective? She asked gently, this had been her first opportunity to talk to both at the same time in private.

As soon as our small problem has been dealt with. I would like to try and oblige, Ma'am, the Colonel volunteered. The Doctor has given the green light.

What about the probes? She asked cautiously. You can't control yours and Seven's are quite capable of producing Borg.

I think the two flavours should cancel themselves out, Ma'am. What you might consider a fortuitous circumstance. And if it doesn't, well a child is a child. Both start out pink, hairless and wrinkled. It is what they learn that makes them what they will become. I've only dealt with other peoples and I didn't think I would ever have a chance of one of my own after my first wife.

The Colonel had not sounded quite right to the Captain, he was holding something back. She took him by the arm and led him a short way away from Seven to try and find out what it was.

Seven thought you had reservations? She whispered.

The Colonel nodded. Don't get me wrong, Ma'am. There is nothing I would like more than having a child I could call my own. But I would have preferred it to have a chance of living in happiness and safety. Where both mother and child could be sure that the next knock at the door won't be a man in a big hat come to say, Sorry but....'. I've seen and done it to too many families. I don't want that for my family.

You still think you are going to die?

We are all going to die, Ma'am, he countered. Some of us do it sooner than we ought. Others cheat it for longer than we ought. Either way I qualify. I just don't want Seven to regret the ending.

She won't do that, she assured him leading him back to where Seven had been watching them.

In silence they watched the crew working, while the Captain tried to make up her mind.

If there was such a thing as a heaven, the match between Seven of Nine and the Colonel was made in it, she decided and she wanted them to go on being happy together. 

The child would certainly be loved, there was no doubt about that either. But she could not entirely put her reservations aside, as the Colonel appeared to have done. There had been a sense of resignation in his voice, despite his assurances. Finally she made up her mind. As a solution it was not going to be well received, nor was it elegant, it smacked of fudge and making time, even pettiness.

I agree to your request, she announced. Provided you find a way to control your respective nanoprobes. 

Quickly she tried to explain as the feeling of guilt fell around her. I want you to have what you want and need. But I don't want to see the Colonel crippled by things he can't control, or the baby assimilated before it is born. You have all the facilities on the ship to help you and if you are adamant I don't think it will take long for you to find an answer.

Seven glared at her. The hurt evident in her face. The Colonel simply nodded. 

Feeling less than happy with herself she made her excuses and left them, feeling as low as she had ever managed before.

The Colonel feeling Seven of Nine's fury at the Captains seemingly unjust demands, placed a gentle arm around her, trying to console her. He knew why the Captain had made her demands. She wanted to be sure that their desires were real, that everything bode well for the future of the offspring despite the danger posed by unintentional assimilation. In her position he would have denied permission all together. But now was not going to be the time to suggest that to Seven of Nine.

I think we need to get away from the ship for a while, he whispered. Neelix tells me there is a stream in the woods. Lets find it and see if there is somewhere to sit and watch it, before we start work?

Unthinking and unprotesting, Seven allowed him to lead her away.

  


Four hours later found them sitting side by side in a clearing at the top of a small cliff. It had taken the Colonel, all of thirty minutes to persuade Chakotay to allow a short exploration mission to be conducted by Seven of Nine and himself and collect supplies for a two day excursion. He suspected that the Captain had pre-warned him about the days discussions. After that he had lead them away at a cracking pace, determined to get as much distance as possible between Voyager and themselves as quickly as possible. In the end they had stopped simply because Seven had managed to twist her ankle. He reckoned that they had walked about eight miles, but their circuitous route probably meant they were no more than five from Voyager. He hoped it would be enough, they could not see the ship, but from their vantage point they could see the valley it was hidden in.

Seven of Nine was evidently still upset by the Captains demands, she barely noticed the Colonel holding her closely and didn't respond. Apart from the small cry when she had turned her ankle, she had said nothing. It was worried him. He sighed, twisted and lifted her into his lap, drawing her as close as he could.

The Captains demands were unreasonable! She suddenly broke out.

he admitted. But she is also the Captain. We will do as we are told because we are good soldiers.

Gently he kissed her on the ear, before pulling her head into his shoulder. She may even have a point. We don't know what sort of reaction there will be between our probes and a developing child, they could kill it. We need to convince ourselves as much as the Captain.

You do not want one! She snapped, pulling away.

He looked at her in open mouthed shock. Of course I do! But I want one we can support ourselves. I want to be woken up at night because one or other of us has to feed it. To lounge and watch my beautiful wife and her bonny baby of an evening, simply admiring them both. To know there is something after me. I might even get the hang of changing nappies. I can even see me in my night shirt, pacing the hall floor in worry at one in the morning, waiting for her to get home after her first late date. But I don't want to have to plug it in to the mains every night to recharge and I don't think you do either.

The pictures his statements painted in her mind were as vivid as they were comical and she relaxed into his arms again. Your observations are accurate, she sighed. But I may fail to find a solution.

He grinned and pushed her upright again so he could look her directly in the eyes. We are the ultimate team, remember? Even the Captain says so. How can we fail? 

He pulled her close again. Coquettishly she closed her eyes and as he kissed her on the lips, letting the feeling take over her.

Of course if we fail to make progress. Well, accidents do happen, or so they say, and experiments are prone to accidents, he whispered.

Her eyes snapped open at that. We would be in direct contravention to the Captains instructions!

But not to the spirit of them. I think the Captain is looking forward to being a godmother. Besides there isn't a lot of option after the event, he smiled.

Now would you like me to have a look at the ankle you sprained? Then we can find a little nook to plan out our experiments and foul deeds.

In silent answer she slipped off his lap and proffered the offending limb for him to treat.

"Why has having a child become such a pressing matter all of a sudden?" He asked quietly, as he smoothly ran the medi-kit stimulator up and down foot and shin. "Not a sudden passion to keep ahead of the Paris's is it? That wouldn't be you."

"Our Collective is not complete," Seven of Nine said stonily.

"Perhaps it isn't," the Colonel admitted cautiously. "But we have a life time to do that in."

He put the stimulator aside and started to massage the ankle through the supple material of her boot, slowly working his way up the leg. "I don't think we will be going any further today."

"I thought you would require offspring. They would allow you to value your life?" she said quietly not looking at him.

The Colonel started for a moment, stopping the gentle massage that had reached the calf. He released that and gently turned her face towards him.

"I'm a simple man. I like simple goals. I have one. You!" He declared in sudden passion. "Seven of Nine, ex-Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix 01, made me the proudest and happiest man in the Galaxy the moment you said 'Yes' to marry me! Suddenly I had somebody who I personally wanted to share my life with and wanted the same, warts and all. I have put a personal value on my life, it is you! I won't let it go."

"Children wise, I am in the same boat as the Captain. I've had hundreds. All other peoples, that I've had to look after and encourage. They have all had the advantage that in the end I could send them home again. Will I have the patience for my own?"

"Yes!" Seven of Nine decreed. "We will be efficient parents." She leant forward and gripped him firmly, pulling him down on top of her then rolled pinning him to the short grass that surrounded them.

"You have only one wart. A small brown one, located 2 cm below your left shoulder blade," she described emotionlessly. "It is a minor defect."

He looked up into her face as it was haloed by the setting sun behind her, trying to decide what level of teasing there was. Then grinned. "Compared to my nose being off-centre 1.3mm?"

"Compared to your desire to resist reproducing," she asserted. "I wish to have something that is ours, that will combine our efficiencies. I wish to experience those feelings that Ensign Wildman experienced rearing Crewman Wildman. I wish assistance!"

The Colonel smiled. Unless she was consciously thinking of them, Seven of Nine's voice still often lacked the nuances of emotion that passion brought and even he sometimes missed her real emotion hidden behind behind otherwise plain statements. He accepted she wanted a child, she would not have said so otherwise. It was who for that caused his doubts. Like him she often thought more for others than for herself. This time he had to sure, who it was for. 

He twisted hard, rolling them both until he could wrap her firmly in his arms.

"If it is what you really want, not just because you think you ought to have because of what you think I or anyother dumb bugger thinks, then we will have as many as we want, or can handle," he assured her happily. "By the coach load! And with all my heart!"

"One will be sufficient!" Seven protested, then relaxed against him, until he rolled back again.

There comfortable repose was interrupted by a roaring noise overhead as a fireball ripped through the closing evening sky. In alarm they they turned to watch its fiery progress as it fell to earth. A dull thud and a faint glow to the west heralding its final end.

It was a ship! Seven exclaimed. It has crashed approximately 10 Kilometres to the West!

Why the hell didn't Tuvok's sensors pick it up! Demanded the Colonel, springing up, Seven of Nine still in his arms as he did so. Never mind. Come on we had better go and pick up the pieces. We can get there before a team from Voyager. 

He gently lowered her to the ground so she could stand. He managed. But we have to go!

  


Roskov had certainly not intended to crash upon the planet. It was however an obvious consequence of the Flame out' the engines suffered as they entered low orbit ready for the descent. The problem, he realised, even as he and Elana desperately struggled to gain control of the ship as it pitched and bounced on the atmosphere, was that the failure seemed almost as if somebody had shut down the engines deliberately. He knew it was not him or his wife and they were the only people aboard.

With only the control jets available, there was no way they could regain a higher orbit. 

Forward momentum changed gradually and inevitably into a wild and uncontrolled descent. The view screen went black as the ship plummeted earthwards. The instruments showed the skin of their ship was heating up rapidly, already it was reading over a 1000 degrees Celsius in a few seconds, if it reached 3000 the ship would explode.

Elana screamed in terror, behind her Thor was also screaming. Roskov dearly wanted to join them. Get into the life pods! He screamed as smoke started to billow from the control panels, the temperature was becoming critical. We can't launch them yet, but they may be safer!

He concentrated upon what few controls still worked. Slowly it levelled out. Another 10,000 metres of altitude and perhaps he could regain control and set the ship down in one piece, he hoped.

It was a wishful hope, doomed to failure. No sooner had Roskov levelled the craft than hit the top off the first trees. It bounced hard, breaking the trees below them like match sticks, throwing Roskov from his seat. He crashed into the walls as he slid crazily around the small control room, passing out. In the small hold in the centre of the ship the two emergency pods, one bearing Elana and her child, shook themselves from their jettison rails and rolled around as the ship twisted and pitched in its death throws. It hit the ground, broke in two and bounced high again, the two halves spinning over each other before crashing to the ground again, blasting a trail 200 metres wide and a kilometre long through the woods.

As the broken rear half span high in the air, the emergency pods rolled from out of the hold and fell to earth, their fall broken by tall trees, before crashing to the ground.

Peace returned to the woods.

  


The fiery progress of the crashing space ship was also observed from Voyager. It caused some panic as they tried to work out what it was.

Tuvok, why didn't we pick it up? Captain Janeway demanded, her alarm only matched by her anger.

I am uncertain, Captain, Tuvok admitted. It did not appear on sensors until it started its descent.

She thumped her communicator. Chakotay, I want a boarding party beamed across now. I want to know who and what that ship was.

Transporters are being overhauled. We will have them ready by tomorrow morning, he responded. The shuttles are no use either.

Get a party together to walk then! she snapped irritably. Where is the Colonel when we need him? This is his sort of expedition!

You gave orders that he should be allowed to take Seven of Nine away from the ship to Tuvok pointed out mildly.

The Captain turned to give short shrift, but was stopped by Chakotay. The Colonel is already on his way, with Seven. He thinks he should be there in about two hours. I'll have a party ready in an hour.

  


The Colonel surveyed the swath of blackened stumps and twisted wreckage with scepticism. It seemed more than unlikely that anybody could have survived the impact. It had obviously been a small ship, so there would not be many casualties. But what it had looked like before the crash was now impossible to tell.

I think it might be better if you stayed her and let me look around in there? he suggested, dropping his pack and looking back in concern at Seven of Nine. For the last hour she had limped gamely along behind him as he had forced a passage for them through the undergrowth. 

He had found, sometimes at his expense, that in many ways her Borg enhanced anatomy was physically stronger than he was. But she did not have his stamina and the last hour and a half had been hard work, even he had struggled. 

She pulled the last of her hair from the remains of its bouffon in annoyance and regarded him steadily. I will accompany you!

Perhaps you ought to wear a hat? He suggested, smiling at the small show of vanity.

She ignored the suggestion. You will proceed!

He turned and pushed forward, pushing ragged pieces of twisted metal out the way so that they may enter what looked as if it may have been the front section of the ship. In the dim light, he picked a direction that looked as if it lead towards the front of the vessel and hopefully the control room and inched forward.

They finally met a heavy door. It had buckled and jumped from the rails that guided it during the crash. It now hung drunkenly half open, before them. The Colonel tentatively pushed at it. It held firm. Instead he shone his pocket torch into the room and peered around the jamb.

In the light of the small torch he spotted a pile of clothing. It was a guess that it might have been a body, until the faint sound of a groan mote his ears.

I take it all back, he hissed pulling back quickly. There is somebody alive!

He examined the door and its fixings more closely. It was a heavy Blast' door, nearly 3 inches thick, designed to give physical protection to who ever was on the friendly' side. It was not designed to be forced open, especially if the forcer would physically have to lift it as well. He guessed it weighed over 800 lbs.

He examined the gap and Seven thoughtfully. I can't get through. I'm too fat, he explained carefully to the inevitable questioning look. You're more nubile than I am. Can you?

She nodded uncertainly and approached the gap cautiously. She found she could slide through at the base, though it proved a tight squeeze. 

Once in a quick glance at the surrounds told her all she needed to know. There was no possibility of finding where the ship had come from, or why it was there. Instead she crawled to the smashed body and probed at it as the Colonel slid their first aid kit to her. She knew the kit would be of no use to her as she reached for it. There are positions that no humanoid can achieve and remain intact, this one appeared to have found all of them.

He tried to speak, so she leant closer as he sighed and hissed. My designation is Seven of Nine, from the Earth ship Voyager. Who are you? She demanded in a fierce whisper.

He seemed to settle a little. He breathed. Wife. Child. In pod. Alive? He coughed then fell silent.

She did not bother to check for further life signs, it was all too evident the humanoid had breathed his last. Instead she crawled back the way she had come, in urgent need to escape from the sight that now sickened her.

She ignored the Colonel's offered hand as she emerged from the Control Room, instead she started to make her way quickly back towards the breach they had entered by. She would have run if there had not been so much debris in the corridor. In silence the Colonel followed her, catching her up as she emerged in the half light of the night, lit by two moons. Silently he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, trying to comfort her, as she buried her head in his shoulder and gasped for breath, swallowing hard.

They stood like that for several minutes as she recovered her composure. 

There is an emergency pod, She stated at last. There may be two survivors.

The Colonel looked around, before stating the obvious. We won't find it tonight. In the morning when we can see and the others have arrived. If they haven't got lost in the dark. We'll get away from this mess and rest.

It contains a female and a child. We will search now! Seven demanded, suddenly angry at her husband's complacent attitude.

He sighed. Seven had made a decision, it was unlikely he would change her mind. He tried anyhow. We can barely see six yards in the open, it will be more like two in the trees. We haven't got a tricorder to detect anything. As for lighting; My torch is pretty well shot and I have only one light stick in the pack. We are also both exhausted. Are you sure?

She glared at him. Yes. My visual acuity is superior to yours. I know where the pods will be. Immediately she set off down the burnt track the broken space ship had forged.

The Colonel still wondering why Seven had been so adamant, shouldered his pack and set off after her. At least you could try some circumspection? he suggested as she forced her way past broken branches and over felled trees. Otherwise I'll have to treat your broken leg as well!

  


Chakotay, leading the relief team from Voyager, was relying upon the signal from the Colonel's communicator to guide them towards the wreckage in the darkness. It had led them to the path the Colonel had forced earlier and they were now making fair progress. It was with some surprise that he noted the signal was moving. It prompted him to try and contact the tall soldier.

Mrs Nine believes there are survivors in an emergency pod, Sir, the Colonel responded almost immediately. She is adamant she.. 

There was a faint thump, then the Colonel could be heard calling in concern, Seven, are you okay?

I am not damaged. We shall continue.

Then the Colonel's voice returned with an explanation. Sorry, Sir. Just fell over a branch. As I was saying, Mrs Nine is bloody determined to find the pod.

In the darkness Chakotay smiled. We'll try and follow you. Just try not to break the communicator. I need it to find you with!

They found them both after another two hours. The Colonel was sat upon a fallen tree watching Seven of Nine as she moved carefully around a metallic egg shaped object.

We found it twenty minutes ago, Sir, the Colonel explained quietly. Mrs Nine is trying to find her way in.

As he was speaking, they saw Seven stoop quickly and push at something. In the night air there was a faint grinding noise as an opening appeared, then Seven disappeared inside.

Her head reappeared again within a couple of seconds. There are two survivors. I require assistance.

The Colonel immediately slid from his perch and moved towards her, then he too slid into the small pod.

He found two humanoids. The first a young female, her attractive face was puckered into a scream of pain without sound, her dark hair splayed around her head. She obviously been caught trying to strap up her safety harness, the buckles could be clearly seen. She had been violently thrown around inside the padded capsule during its calamitous descent. Immediately fearing the worse he examined her and was surprised to find a weak pulse. He was not hopeful, there were too many obviously broken bones.

We need the Doctor for this one. Get the Commander to wake him up, he whispered to Seven, then turned his attention to the second occupant.

This proved to be a baby, barely into eating solids he guessed. With the thin layer of dark hair covering its scalp and green romper' suit, it looked almost exactly like a human child, down to the rosy cheeks of teething'. It was the focus of Seven of Nine's attention. He noticed her engrossed look of fascination as she stared at it and felt his own strings twang.

You were right and I was wrong, he said softly. If you will let me past, then perhaps I can have a quick look, before the Doctor starts panicking?

It is not seriously damaged, Seven assured him perfunctorily.

He accepted her word without question. In that case. We had better get out and let the Doctor do what he has to do for his mother, he said as the Doctor's visage appeared in the hatch way.

Gently he helped her out of the cramped pod and sat her upon a fallen tree, letting the Doctor set to work.

As you walked, I assume there are no transporters. So we'll need a stretcher for the woman, he observed to Chakotay as he and the relief team gathered around. 

Chakotay shook his head. They will be working in a few hours. What happened aboard the ship?

It broke up when it crashed. The pilot told Seven about this thing before he died. If he hadn't we would never have looked for it, the Colonel explained, settling himself beside Seven and sliding an arm around her. She was shivering.

Guessing it was a reaction to what she had seen, he picked her up and slid silently away from the group. Once satisfied he was out of earshot of the others he sat himself down again, still cradling Seven of Nine in his arms.

You can let go now! He whispered gently, kissing her cheek.

She remained on his lap, quivering and silent. He waited, gently rocking her. He could feel something building up inside her, just waiting to burst.

Finally, with all the gentleness he could muster, he said, You are upset about the baby, aren't you? That he may be about to lose both parents?

She nodded imperceptibly.

It needn't be a loss in the long run. We seem to have lasted and he has a better chance, he has us to care for him?

She did look at him then. You would accept the infant to care for? She demanded.

Until something better turned up, like grandparents or others from his family. Yes! He asserted. I wouldn't let anybody go through what I had.

The proposition is acceptable, she decreed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He almost fell backwards over the trunk in surprise from the sudden change in mood.

  


Dawn lifted it's golden haze over the exhausted crew as they sat waiting for the transporters to take them back to Voyager. 

After much unnecessary instruction from the Doctor, the Colonel had managed to construct a rude stretcher for the injured woman and had strapped her securely to it. Proper treatment of her injuries would not be possible until she was safely in the sick bay.

In the mean time, Seven of Nine had taken almost sole care of the baby. 

As soon as the Doctor had confirmed that the child was not hurt, the Colonel had carefully modified his rucksack to act as a Papoose for the child, then slid the child into it and hung it on Seven of Nine. She was now carrying it strapped to her front, never letting it out of her sight for a moment.

Chakotay was not certain whether to laugh or cry at the sight. The concept of Seven of Nine, the efficient ex-borg, acting like an adoring mother, was very touching. But sad, the way she seemed to have fallen so desperately in love with it. 

The Colonel seemed to be as nearly as badly affected, he noted. He had found some fruit on the fallen trees and after careful testing had mashed it to a pulp ready to feed to the child when it awoke. It did wake, it squalled, but it also fell quiet when the Colonel had taken it and tried to feed it. Everything seemed to go quiet in the Colonel's hands, Chakotay noted. 

It was also notable that he was the only person that Seven was prepared to give the child to voluntarily. That also amused him.

An hour after the sun rose over the trees Voyager finally managed to beam them home.

  


Captain Janeway demanded almost as soon as they reappeared. Where did that vessel come from, why is it here?

Seven of Nine placed her small charge on a medical bed then came to the rescue of the weary Commander. The ship was too badly damaged from the crash. These two are the only survivors. The female may be able to give us some more information, if she recovers.

Unwillingly, Janeway relaxed a little, but not before rounding on Tuvok. Increase the sensitivity of the detection grid and I want us underway by tonight. Our safe haven doesn't look as safe anymore!

Hull repairs will not be complete until tomorrow morning, Tuvok pointed out stiffly. If we had been discovered it would seem probable that we would have been made aware of the fact by now.

Very well, midday tomorrow, she agreed, then turned back to Seven and the Colonel.What have you there?

The third crew member of the vessel. He has a fever, Seven announced over the gentle grizzling of the child. 

The gentle crying seemed to echo through the ship, it put her teeth on edge.

The Captain queried further.

I think it is just teething, perhaps a bit of a chill, he admitted, gently sliding a finger into the child's mouth and feeling it bite on it. The gum is certainly hot enough to be hurting. The Doctor didn't pick up anything when he examined him. I'll see if I can find a mild pain killer and a rusk.

Look after it. Seven I need you to find a course out of here. 

She took a second look at her ex-Borg, then added, When you are happy that the Colonel isn't going to do anything rash. Seven looked less than happy with the idea of leaving the child, even in the Colonel's hands.

Think I've already done that, Ma'am! The Colonel reported happily picking the child up and bouncing it gently in his arms.

What the hell has got into the Colonel and Seven? She demanded as Chakotay escorted her from the Sick Bay. They are treating that thing as if it was the most precious thing in the Universe!

The Colonel offered to take the child on if his mother doesn't survive, Chakotay murmured. I think Seven has taken it as a done deal.

I know he likes children and Seven is almost desperate. But this is a little fast, she hissed. 

A sudden thought struck her. I wonder if this is Q's doing? She wondered aloud. I have been wondering where he had got to. It isn't like him to leave us alone for so long if he wants something.

Chakotay shrugged, not having an answer and left for his quarters and a couple of hours rest, while the Captain returned to the Ready Room to ponder the problem.

More than a Q', he had said, the phrase troubled her, it hinted of problems to come, they seemed to have acquired a child and almost irrationally two of her crew had become distinctly too attached to it.

  


Two days later Voyager prepared to blast herself back into space. The Captain paced the Bridge impatiently, waiting for the last few crewmen to finish their tasks and announce ready.

"All stations report ready. All external hatches closed. Power levels are stable," Kim chanted finally, reeling of the inevitable check list.

"Tom, take us up," the Captain snapped, taking her seat for the inevitable bumpy ride.

"Aye, Ma'am!" Tom Paris accepted the order with a little reluctance. He like most of the crew had hoped for a little more time on the planet to simply relax.

Once satisfied that the ship was on course again the Captain stalked down to the sick bay. Their woman guest had awoken a few hours before their launch, but there had not been the time to question her in the frantic activity that preceded a launch.

She was met at the door by the Doctor. Her name is Elana. She is very weak, he reported. There are severe internal injuries, I don't know if I can save her even now! I've not told her about the other two.

She nodded grimly. I'll deal with it. Get Seven and the Colonel to bring the child down.

She turned and approached the couch that held the woman captive.

She started gently, the woman turned her head and looked at her with large and frightened brown eye's. She was so young, no more than 18, a child herself, the Captain thought.

I am Captain Kathryn Janeway, Commander of the Star Ship Voyager. I assure you we mean no harm to you or your baby. But I have to ask you a few questions. Do you understand?

Elana demanded.

Your husband?

Elana nodded weakly.

I'm sorry. We couldn't save him, the Captain said softly, gripping her hand.

A flash of pain flit across Elana's face.

She whispered.

Your baby? He is safe and being looked after by two of my crew. They'll bring him down in a few minutes, the Captain promised.

Now where are you from? She continued gently.

We are from Rajah, Elana whispered.

The Coven tried to steal our baby. They claimed he did not belong to us after we found him and he should be handed to them. Me and Roskov tried to escape from them. But they chased us. Then another vessel, a square one, that chased us too. Roskov thought there was somebody else as well. He could sense things, she continued quickly.

He isn't yours? The Captain blurted.

Found him in the bushes near my home. We wanted children to seal our pairing, so our parents couldn't object. 

Warning bells started to clang for the Captain. She didn't know why.

Why did you crash on the planet?

We didn't mean to, she pleaded. We just wanted to hide and rest for a while. But the engines stopped when we started to descend.

Do you know why they stopped?

She shook her head uncertainly. Roskov, thought they were turned off! She sobbed uncontrollably.

The Captain, straightened and glanced around, uncertain of what to do. She found the Colonel and Seven of Nine standing behind her. She hadn't heard them come in.

The Colonel stepped past her silently and knelt beside the sobbing girl. Nah then duck! You daresn't be like this. Not to for your baby. Can you? He asked brightly. 

From a pocket he pulled a handkerchief and dabbed gently at her eye's, Let us dry those eyes and make you look pretty again. Now blow! He held the hanky to her nose and she snorted into it dutifully, then smiled weakly at him.

Much better! He assured her, then nodded to Seven.

She stepped uncertainly forward and laid the child beside her mother. Holding it gently as Elana smiled and kissed it.

The Colonel straightened and took the mesmerised Captain from the alcove. The Colonel's actions never ceased to amaze her. This time he had treated the patient like a small child and had got away with it. She would never work out how he picked the right way to approach people from a simple glance.

How much did you hear? She asked uncertainly, there were limits to how much she was prepared to tell the Colonel just yet, fearful of his reaction.

Not as much as you know, I suspect, Ma'am, he opined shrewdly. I'm rather hoping you will fill the gaps in? 

She shook her head. You heard she isn't his mother?

He affirmed.

How will Seven react? She seems to have become very protective of him.

I don't know. We would like to adopt it, he admitted. If I knew a little more about the circumstances.

You can direct her, the Captain finished. Very well. I'll tell you both what I think. My Ready Room, one hour.

  


The Colonel and Seven of Nine appeared in the Captains Ready Room, sixty minutes later as commanded. The Captain noticed with some alarm that Seven was still carrying the infant in her arms.

Shouldn't he be left with his mother? She asked cautiously.

The mother died five minutes ago, Seven responded neutrally. The Doctor thought it wise to leave the baby in our care, for the time being.

His name is Thor, the Captain said gently. If you are going to take care of him, then you ought to know his name? I assume you are still prepared to do that?

Seven nodded in recognition. The designation is acceptable.

He doesn't seem to have any where else to go, he observed.

That is less than a resounding confirmation, the Captain responded pointedly.

I am waiting for the disappointment, Ma'am. I think you are going to provide it? The Colonel's tone was quiet but questioning. In the end I am a soldier. I do as I am told.

"You are right, as usual, she sighed. Thor didn't belong to Elana either. She and Roskov found it. They decided to adopt him, but they didn't tell the authorities. It seems they were running away from them.

Authorities can be funny about adoption, the Colonel observed

It seems that Thor isn't a simple Rajah either, the Captain continued. Both the Borg and the Q are interested in him as well.

She waited for the response.

Dutifully the Colonel provided it. So? Neither hold any great threat.

Her mouth opened in surprise at the extra titbit.

You don't know the Q! She hissed. He has the power to destroy us. He almost demanded we find the child for him and persuade me to help hand him over!

Small irritating chap with big mouth and over inflated opinion of himself, the Colonel described. I've met him.

The Colonel evicted him from the Sick Bay when he attempted to intimidate him, Seven added proudly.

The Captain was impressed. Perhaps that is why he hasn't been back yet, she wondered aloud.

Either way Thor's real parents don't belong in this Universe or the Q's. It seems he comes from higher up the ladder again.

In that case, Ma'am. Mrs Nine and I will look after the child until his rightful parents arrive to reclaim him. I will not let him go to Q and I want the opportunity to tell his parents what I think of them first!

You don't understand. Q claims he will have the power to create and destroy Universes. He could prove dangerous to the ship! She pointed out in alarm.

Only if he has Q as a surrogate father, Ma'am. I'd like to think Mrs Nine and myself would be able to teach him when to use what he has and when not to, the Colonel declared stoutly.

His declaration was disturbed as Q appeared behind the Captain.

A really good job, Kathryn, he beamed. I knew I could depend on you to keep the baby safe.

She span around to look at him.

And we intend to keep him safe! Why did you force their ship to crash? She snapped.

I had nothing to do with it, he assured her, the ingratiating smile appearing on his lips. I told you the child was more powerful than Q.

He caused the crash that killed his surrogate parents! Why? The Captain demanded. It could have killed him as well!

It would take more than a bad landing in an emergency pod to harm him. Just as it was inevitable he would find somebody so desperate to reproduce that they will fall in love and look after him, Q assured her. In this case he has found the Borg and the barbarian. I will however take the child away. His parents wish him recovered.

We will not release Thor to you, Seven snapped her response with real venom behind it, clutching the child more firmly to her chest. We will defend ourselves and the child if we are required to.

Just a minute, Seven, the Captain stopped her.

Q's glances between the two women was all the distraction the Colonel needed. He leapt forward and launched an uppercut at him. It slid through the Q as he faded out. Undeterred the Colonel held his ground and lashed out again gripping him firmly by the lapels as Q took on a more substantial form again and slammed him against the wall and gripping his hands together.

Making the ship crash was murder. When I was born, we hanged people for that, the Colonel hissed. I don't believe you, that you were not responsible for it. Why? because I don't trust you. You may not be an out and out liar, but you are a spoilt brat and a bully. I don't like bullies, they think only of themselves. I'm told I can't kill a Q. But perhaps I can hurt you a little just so you remember what it's like?

The next blow was a ferocious head butt, followed by a punch to the stomach. Q screamed and the Colonel let him drop to the floor. 

I could do a lot more, he hissed prodding Q with his foot. But I'm not like you. I know when to stop being a bully and a schemer. Go back where you come from and stay there. Grow up enough to let us simple mortals live our lives, your interference causes more harm than good.

The child's parents will want him back! He will destroy you! Q gasped trying to get up and feeling the strange blood that was emanating from his nose. He was pushed back down by the Colonel's foot.

When they really want him, they can come and ask. We are not releasing him to a pathetic twerp like you! Now go away and don't come back!

He will destroy you! Q whimpered again as he disappeared.

I'm sorry, Ma'am. But I was not going to let him take Thor.

The Captain shook herself. She had been of the impression that the Q were unaffected by what happened around them. How did you do that? she demanded. Nobodies ever touched them before!

The Colonel shrugged. Perhaps people have signalled their intentions before.

He won't give up though. He will be back! The Captain warned. I don't want him spread across the decks again. It doesn't look good and he will get upset!

If he is polite and doesn't try to give orders or impress me, I won't hit him again, Ma'am, the Colonel promised. he left it hanging.

I suppose we will have to deal with him when he returns, she sighed. I just hope he doesn't decide he wants revenge. In the mean time, I suppose you two had better carry on as you are."

She smiled, suddenly relaxing. "Besides, I doubt I could persuade you to give him to anybody else anyhow. May I have a closer look?

Reluctantly, Seven of Nine, held Thor out to her and the Captain gathered him into her arms.

"He is a lovely baby," the Captain agreed, feeling herself fall into the deep pools of its eyes as it looked up at her and gurgled. "I can quite see him becoming a Samuels," she laughed before handing him back.

In Seven of Nine's arms the child started to grizzle, as if in sympathy the ship started to shudder, making them all stagger.

The Captain staggered for the door, quickly followed by the Colonel and Seven of Nine.

She screamed as the shudders started the vessel creaking.

We have been caught in an energy field, Tuvok responded. I am attempting to locate the source. Structural integrity is failing.

Deploying emergency power to structural integrity, Kim shouted. It looks as though a rift is forming in space. We can't hold together for long.

Deploy warp power to structural integrity! She shouted her response. She could clearly see the walls of the Bridge buckle towards her. 

All the time the child's grizzling became louder, it broke into a scream when she shouted at Seven, Get him to stop!

The ship lurched dangerously, behind her a terminal exploded in sparks and smoke as a beam from the ceiling fell onto it.

Captain, the rift is centred on the Bridge! Tuvok called.

In silence, the Colonel and Seven of Nine looked at each other as the light of dawn formed. Gently the Colonel took the child from her and pushed his finger into it's mouth again. He grimaced as it bit down hard upon it, but the crying settled slowly. As did the ship.

The Captain looked almost accusingly at the couple before calling, Damage report?

Structural damage all decks, three injured, Tuvok reported. Damage control is active!

The Captain turned her attention back to Seven and the Colonel. Do you have an explanation? She asked quietly.

Teething, Ma'am, the Colonel suggested. Nothing hurts worse than the things you haven't got when you are two.

We should be returned to the planet! Seven demanded suddenly. It is evident that the child may not remain aboard for the safety of the ship. The Colonel and I will care for him until his parents appear to recover it.

Thor by name, Thor by nature. You can't keep him under control, until it finishes? The Captain asked hopefully.

No, Ma'am. I think Mrs Nine and myself will run out of fingers long before it finishes, the Colonel opined, swapping his bruised finger for another. Little bugger has quite a bite for somebody without teeth!

The conversation was cut short as Tuovok's voice interrupted. Captain, there is an unidentified object approaching. Composition, unidentifiable: Mass, unidentifiable; Energy source, unidentifiable; Size, unidentifiable ..

What can you identify? she snapped in irritation.

Tuvok shrugged. It exists, he declared implacably.

Put it on screen.

They watched in silence as a glimmering dot spun towards them.

It is on collision course, Tuvok announced.

Shields up!

The dot became larger, taking on a crystalline shape that filled the screen. It made Seven catch her breath. An Omega Crystal. The perfect structure, container of ultimate power! She whispered softly as the crystal pulsed with light, flashing with colours as it showed its multiple facets to them as it span.

Reduce magnification, Captain Janeway demanded in awe.

Already on minimum magnification, Kim reported apologetically. It is as big as it looks.

It can't be and remain stable! She exclaimed. It should explode and take the galaxy with it!

It has penetrated the shields, Tuvok announced. Impact with the hull in five seconds.

Quietly the Colonel handed Thor back to Seven and pulling his blade from it's scabbard.

Your sword will not be of benefit if the crystal destabilises, Seven observed quietly, staring at the crystal in awe as it came closer.

I always feel better holding something I can believe in, if I'm about to die, he whispered quietly, his spare arm sliding around her. Now I have the benefit of having two.

The crystal flashed then disappeared. 

The crystal has entered the vessel, Tuvok reported, not looking up from his instruments at the gasp from the assembled crew.

His attention was drawn by a gentle cough from the Colonel. I think we have noticed, Sir?

He looked up to see the rest of the Bridge observing a crystal about 300mm diameter. It was spinning in mid air infront of the view screen. Subconsciously he felt for his tricorder and approached it. Still no power readings, he observed in fascination.

As he stepped up the crystal soared into the air, sending a bright blue energy beam at him. Tuvok slumped to the floor.

Tom dived to his side and inspected him as well as he could without instruments. He needs the Doctor! he called.

The others said nothing as the crystal started to circle around the room, stopping in front of each person, as if inspecting them. It finished in front of Seven of Nine as she held the baby protectively close to her. The Colonel moved slowly to place himself between it and her, bringing his blade up infront of him threateningly.

It launched a bolt of energy at him. It hit the blade and arced into his body, making him slump to the floor and drop it. 

Slowly he staggered upright again, his teeth gritted with the pain and concentration required, reaching behind him for his heavy sheath knife to continue to cover the crystal, now less than five feet infront of him.

You are a brave person, Colonel Samuels, a slow voice boomed throughout the room. You know you cannot defeat us, yet you are prepared to protect the woman and child behind you despite the futility?

I have never believed in impossible odds and I hate parlour tricks, the Colonel hissed in return. Until you prove to be anything other than a threat, I will do my duty.

The voice laughed at him. The Q told us you were a primitive with no sense of honour.

I find that insulting, considering he is a meddling braggart, the Colonel hissed. Will you show yourselves, so that I may form an opinion of you?

You are already seeing us, as we appear in your Universe. In ours we are not so very different. We think your assessment of the Q may be correct however. We regret asking him to watch over our son. However you are unpredictably dangerous. 

Your son? Seven questioned from behind the Colonel.

A new voice appeared, still deep and slow, but female. Your brave champion and Captain Janeway demanded that we claim him for ourselves! 

A second crystal appeared, floating beside the first.

We apologise for the danger and damage he caused to your ship, Captain. It was all an accident.

An accident? The Captain queried.

Elana and Roskov were never supposed to find Thor. You see we often send our youngest children to your Universe so that they may learn a little about it and how it works, before they take up their role as shepherds of the Cosmos. In this case we selected the wrong place, the two children that found him would have been good parents in time, but they were immature. It caused anxiety amongst others and desire from those who worked out what he was.

So now you are just going to take him back. Without thought for the damage you have caused to the lives of us mere parasites? The Colonel hissed.

It is no different to the damage that your own species cause to each other, the male voice responded.

That is true, the Colonel admitted. But win or lose, we pay for the damage in blood. What do you pay?

We will ensure that Elana and Roskov are returned, they will live long and happy lives, the female responded hurriedly. We will ensure you and Seven of Nine get what you wish, a child.

What then? The Colonel cried. Congratulate yourselves on being benevolent Gods and caring parents. The only assurance I want from you is you will leave us alone. If Mrs Nine and I are to have a child. I want it to be our efforts, not a whim from some mind with other agendas.

The two crystals seemed to hover uncertainly for a few minutes, then carefully skirted the Colonel one either side of him, making it impossible to cover Seven from both. They hovered over her.

Is that what you wish, Seven of Nine Samuels, nee Tertiary Adjunct Unimatrix Zero-One? The female boomed at her. We know Colonel Samuels will often take your preferences over his own?

Seven gazed back at them calmly. I wish to reproduce. However I wish it to be mine.

The crystals bobbed, almost as if bowing to her. Before the female responded again. We believe if you are determined you will succeed in your desires and you will be excellent parents, but you find it difficult," she prophesied. "We will not intervene. May we take Thor?

Seven of Nine considered the request. She had become dedicated to the child in the short time it had been in her care. Its existence was now important to her and she did not wish to release it, not now or to the entity that was hovering closer.

He will grow stronger and less controllable, before you can teach him properly, Seven of Nine-Samuels. We are certain both you and your husband could teach Thor, the male voice cautioned. Upon a planet it would go unnoticed, the effects will be distributed evenly. Aboard Voyager they are concentrated, the survival of you and your friends will be severely jeopardised. Please? 

Reluctantly Seven held Thor up to them. 

He started to glow and transform in her hands, until he too became a small crystal of light.

an excited voice entered the arena. I have learnt much in the interaction between these people. They are not as primitive as we believe. I have looked into their minds. They care!"

Your lessons are well learned my son!

The small crystal span down again and gently kissed Seven of Nine's cheek, making her blush, then span up again to rejoin its parents as they moved back to the Captain.

The damage to your ship will be repaired, Captain, the male announced.

And my Security Officer?

He will recover shortly, as will the Colonel. It is only his determination to protect your vessel and his wife that his holding him up, he is quite impressive. We will also instruct Q not to take reprisals against your ship and crew, though that might not be necessary. The Colonel Impressed' him. There was definitely amusement in the voice, the Captain decided as they disappeared.

The Captain watched their spinning glows faded from her sight before collapsing into her chair. Damage status? She gasped.

Kim exclaimed.

The Colonel finally gave in to the jolt he had taken from the crystals and collapsed slowly and quietly to the ground.

Beam Tuvok and the Colonel to Sick Bay, she ordered. 

I'm sorry you couldn't keep Thor, Seven, She added turning towards Seven.

His release was necessary," Seven commented sadly, bending to examine the Colonel. 

"The experience has not been a loss," She added more reflectively. "The Borg believe that the Omega crystal is the perfect form of power. I have now seen and held the item. It did not seem to be the perfection I anticipated.

the Captain queried leaning forward in anticipation as Seven of Nine worked on the Colonel.

The child was preferable and almost as unobtainable, Seven explained standing up as the Colonel was beamed away.

She sounded disappointed to the Captain.

It prompted her spring from her seat and catch her up before she passed through the lift door, Just remember, when you have your own, nobody can take it away from you, she whispered.

Yet you require me to find a way for my offspring not to be affected adversely by Borg technologies during reproduction? Seven asked neutrally, turning to face the Captain, the eyebrow working questioningly.

I would prefer it, if there was no major surprises, the Captain admitted softly.

So would I, Seven of Nine turned again and was gone.

  


  


  


  


  


Revision 3

   [1]: mailto:story@rgower.f9.co.uk



	4. Final Conflict (new 19/6/01)

1-24 Final Conflict Final Conflict 

_Desperate for Seven of Nine to overcome her emotions over her desire to reproduce, Captain Janeway sends the Colonel and Seven of Nine to investigate an anomaly. Voyager meets treachery as the Captain is captured by the Dwarves. _

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The story line and the Colonel are my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail [story@rgower.plus.com][1]._

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start with the Colonel_

_This story is rated PG13_

_©R Gower 2001_

  


Are you sure you need all this, Seven? B'Elanna Paris sighed, waving her arm expansively at the range of data nodes and equipment Seven of Nine had collected in the Science Lab.

I know the Captain said she would like you to find a way to prevent any child you conceive not to turn out to be a Borg. But this is getting ridiculous! There must be over a hundred data units alone, surely you haven't read them all?

Seven turned slowly from the screen she was examining. She looked tired. 

One hundred thirty-two, she agreed. They were necessary for me to fully understand the full implications of the gestation cycle and the possible consequences of cross breeding. Please state the purpose of your visit?

But you won't be cross breeding! B'Elanna exclaimed. You are as human as the Colonel!

Seven regarded her impassively. You are incorrect. Whilst we posses the basic genetic code of humans; the Colonels are different at two points of decimal, because of the generation he is descended from and additional factors such as my assimilation. Also much of my body has been enhanced' by the use of Borg technology, as is the Colonel's to a lesser extent. Those technologies will infect the child. We are uncertain what the overall effects those technologies will have.

Will it matter? B'Elanna demanded. It will be human and yours, even if it does have a few Borg enhancements! What does the Colonel say?

For the first time Seven looked a little uncertain. The only stipulation he has placed is that he does not wish to plug the baby into the mains at night to recharge.

Well there you are then, B'Elanna announced. He isn't worried, why should you be? 

He does not understand the full capability of my nano-probes! Seven protested. I do not wish it to suffer from assimilation.

B'Elanna stepped closer to her friend and took her gently by the arm. Perhaps he doesn't, she agreed gently. But perhaps you are putting too much faith in their capability. After all, you have stuffed him full of yours and apart from a touch of thrombosis, they did nothing to him and you had been going at him Hammer and Tongs' for nearly six months. The baby will have some of his as well!

Seven of Nine was not to be deflected as easily as that. When you and Lieutenant Paris conceive, the course of the interaction between your Klingon genes and his human genes has been well documented, she said quietly. The child will inherit features from both of you as his parents. It will maintain your facial features and some other inherent Klingon adaptations, probably your temper traits, it will however be largely human. 

The interaction between the Colonel's and my own is not documented. To that must be added the uncertainty of our respective probes to adapt and assimilate different conditions. We know that if my probes are outnumbered by the Colonel's, they are adapted to behave like his. The converse is also true. It is also uncertain what effect the nanoprobes will have on the developing child. I once believed that my Borg enhancements brought me to a level of perfection that humans cannot achieve. Now I have discovered that they do not offer perfection, but rather increase the level of imperfection. I do not wish our child to be so enhanced and disadvantaged. The outcome is uncertain.

Oh, I don't know, B'Elanna commented teasingly. If it hadn't been for your Borg upbringing you wouldn't have the Colonel. He fell for you because of your Borg enhancements! 

Besides when you injected a Borg it was re-assimilated. You haven't done that to the Colonel. Doesn't that suggest something? B'Elanna added, pulling Seven towards the door. It does to me!

A worried frown passed across Seven of Nines face as she considered the question. For thirty seconds she considered it, before admitting, 

B'Elanna laughed. It means, you couldn't make him Borg if you wanted to. The same will be true of your baby.

Seven of Nine agreed guardedly. The Colonel has also suggested a similar relationship exists. He described it as part of love', the statement lacks logic. My nanoprobes are not affected by emotional sentiment. What are your intentions?

Still grinning, B'Elanna answered, I was going to say I was missing our arguments about efficiency in Engineering. But the truth is, nobody's seen you for a week, because you've shut yourself in here. So I'm taking you to dinner.

Seven pulled back in alarm. I do not wish to go to the Mess! I find the location uncomfortable!

People offering advice, huh? B'Elanna suggested sympathetically. I keep getting advice from people as well!

Seven looked at her quizzically.

Since Tom and I married, the number of people who have asked when we intend to start a family and advice on how to do it, you wouldn't believe! It's as much as I can do not to scream at them! She explained. As it is, we aren't going to the Mess. We are going to Brains'. Just you, me and Sam Wildman.

This was the Colonels suggestion? Seven queried uncertainly. Brains' was a simulation of an Earth night club she had visited with the Colonel as a means of getting him to relax and proving she wanted to interact with him. It had since become a firm favourite with both of them as a venue for when they wanted to remove themselves as far as possible from the crew. What surprised her most was that the Colonel was often the most in need of the break.

Actually it was mine! The Colonel said you had been working too hard. Besides he is on duty! B'Elanna claimed. 

Seven of Nine looked back at her terminal. She wanted to get the tests she was carrying out completed. They had been driving her for the last two weeks, almost obsessively, as she strove to find what effect her nano-probes were going to have if she were to attempt to have a child. For the last five days she had even omitted to regenerate in the cargo bay, as more and more tests had proved inconclusive. She was beginning to think there was going to be no positive answer and she would have to trust to luck. Luck was not a solution that her logical mind would accept, even if her husband claimed he believed in it. 

Her logical mind had also noted that the Colonel, with the deftness of a card sharp, modified the circumstances he was in so that luck' would be on his side.

With some reluctance she turned her look away. Your proposal is satisfactory.

  


The Colonel presented himself to the Captain at exactly 21:30, ready to take his shift on the Bridge as commander of the Dog Watch. His presentation had become quite routine and the Captain found she enjoyed the brief, almost comical, ceremony that accompanied it. If he did, or not, she had never managed to work out, but it was his regulations that he followed. It tended to be the highlight of an otherwise dull shift, or a calming influence on a bad one. 

He would appear twenty minutes before the remains of his shift gathered, formally stand to attention, salute and request permission to step on the Bridge. This, she would grant, he would then step forward onto the balcony behind her seat, slam to a halt and stand at attention until she had inspected his turn out. 

In the seven months since Cathor, she had found fault in his dress twice. One had been a loose button on his tunic, the second had been two long blonde hairs on his back. In Star Fleet, they were faults that meant nothing, but to the Colonel and his regulations they seemed to be major crimes. She was inordinately proud of having found both of them, they were the tiniest details that he stressed on the Dog Watch as being the most important clues as to what was to happen next. 

If all went well with the inspection, she would have him stand at ease and could then brief him. Remembering to have him stand at ease was also important, she had forgotten the first week and he had stood stock still at attention and had barked Ma'am!' at her every comment until it seemed that the panelling on the bridge was rattling in sympathy.

When the rest of the Dog Watch assembled for the shift, their was a similar ceremony. This time conducted by the Colonel. The fact that it seemed to work and they seemed to enjoy trying to meet his exacting standards, never failed to amaze her. It seemed so foreign and strict, yet it had had its affect, the members of the Dog Watch were proud of their watch and had learned more tricks in its short existence than she had in over fifteen years in Star Fleet. It had prompted her to give them their promotions two months ago. If only because they were always the neatest crewmen on the ship. Secretly, she suspected, as a team, they could give her prime crew more than a run for their money. 

She had also spent much time going over the history files on the computer to find why the Colonel followed such strict procedures. Whatever she might learn in the Delta Quadrant, she would also be an expert on the subject of the British Army.

This evening was no different, the Colonel was as always immaculately turned out, except for a brown hair on his collar. She picked it up with a flourish of victory and some surprise. A blonde hair she could understand, it would be Seven's. A brown one was different. She looked at him in puzzlement.

I'm sorry, Ma'am! He stuttered in embarrassment. I believe it may be Lieutenant Paris B's, Ma'am. She offered to ensure Mrs Nine left the lab tonight. I'm afraid I was a little forward. I am unsure if Lieutenant Paris wishes to press charges.

You kissed her! the Captain accused in merriment. I don't suppose you called her B'Elanna as well did you? 

he exclaimed in sheer horror at the idea.

Well I suppose it is a start, she commented, still amused at the idea. Seven is taking the probe problem seriously?

Rather too seriously, I'm afraid, Ma'am. When the shift pattern is over I intend to distract her properly. Then perhaps I can see if this new ejector works. He grinned, then sub-consciously scratched the inside of his left arm where the probe ejection system Seven of Nine had designed to combat her periodic inoculations sat.

I'm still not happy about adding more Borg technology to your system, she confided more seriously. Is it causing you problems? 

It itches, Ma'am, be agreed. But it will get better when I'm used to it. It is either that or chain her to the bed post at night. I couldn't have that! Besides when one gets involved with somebody like Mrs Nine, one has to be prepared to take the rough with the smooth.

Her grin of relief was genuine. There shouldn't be any problems tonight, but we will be passing a system with intelligent life. There doesn't seem to be any advanced space capability, but you may need to keep an eye on it. I'll see you tomorrow! She briefed him hurriedly, stifling a yawn as the rest of the watch paraded behind him.

  


In respect to Seven of Nine and her limited taste for rich food, Samantha Wildman and B'Elanna had persuaded the replicator system to provide The Colonel's Hot Pot', as it had become known aboard the ship; a molasses fortified variation of Lancashire Hot Pot. 

Some wags aboard the ship suggested, tongue in cheek, that was why she loved him, others that it was the only meal she could actually prepare from raw ingredients. Neither was true, the Colonel enjoyed cooking, Seven of Nine did not and they each admitted it. Whatever the reasoning it was a meal that Seven of Nine had developed a taste for, when it appeared upon the Mess menu she had been seen to help herself to unusually large portions.

Otherwise the meal went quietly, B'Elanna and Samantha tactfully keeping their conversation away from the subject of reproduction until the end of the meal, when Samantha brought it up.

When are you and Tom going to make the Captain a Godmother? She asked B'Elanna, with a sly grin.

B'Elanna glared at her. What makes you think we are? 

Deck 3 isn't the only one that complains about thumps in the night, Samantha Wildman observed. You have been married, she looked questioningly at Seven of Nine.

Seven months, twenty-five days, Seven supplied dutifully, curious at the teasing. Ensign Wildman had been one of only a small handful of the crew that had not offered her advice about how to extend the Samuels' Collective.

She nodded happily. See. High time! I can see him now. Tom's angelic looks and your temper, what more could you want?

Perhaps Lieutenant B'Elanna Paris's intelligence? Seven of Nine added dryly.

They laughed good naturedly at the comment. That also puzzled Seven of Nine, it had been intended as a serious statement.

Of course, he is going to have no chance compared to Seven's! Samantha laughed, turning her teasing on Seven of Nine, who stiffened in anticipation of more useless advice.

She will be as tough and as determined as you two are, just as efficient and yet still seem so helpless everybody will want to look after her. Just like we do with you both! Samantha predicted. Come on, Seven. Call up a couple of copies of your holo-Colonel. I haven't danced in months and as I can't have the real one, perhaps you'll let me dance with a replica?

Uncertainly Seven of Nine complied, though a little selfishly, she only produced the one Colonel and two others from his regiment. B'Elanna and Samantha winked knowingly at each other as Seven took the hologram of her husband in her arms for the first dance. No matter how Seven felt about learning to control her probes, the tall soldier was still guaranteed to take her attention.

They finally escorted her to Cargo Bay 2 and set her in her alcove for regeneration some two hours later, then congratulated each other on a job well done. Seven of Nine had been persuaded to relax, despite her determination to complete her quest. The Colonel would be very grateful.

  


Six small vessels approaching, Sir! Ensign Carver warned the Colonel from the Tactical Station.

Very good. Hail them! the Colonel ordered calmly from the Commanders seat.

Automatically Carver displayed the alien vessels on the view screen and his fingers ran over the controls to send out a general greeting.

No response, Sir! He advised after a few moments. Each shows a single life form. No weapons powered.

The Colonel was watching the screen intently, the small triangular ships were approaching in vee formation and were starting to spread out.

Shields up. Prepare tractor beams and phasors. Sound red alert, he ordered quickly. They are forming into an attack pattern. Advise when they target and keep sending universal friendship signals.

He touched his communicator. Captain to the Bridge. Immediate!

They are powering weapons, announced Carver almost immediately. But there is no serious power in them. Simple lasers.

The Colonel nodded. Lock the lead vessel with a tractor beam, target his power systems with enough clout to knock him about. No more than that. Make sure they know who we are. I think we are being tested, so keep scanning for something more serious!

There was a slight rock as Voyager was hit by the first laser blasts. It prompted the Colonel to shake his head sadly. Damage the first vessel, please, Ensign, he ordered. Don't kill it yet. We don't want any bodies to explain!

From the upper phasor array a single pale beam lanced out and caught the fighter held in the tractor beam.

Damaged as ordered, Sir! Carver proclaimed proudly, as the ship was again rocked.

Persistent buggers aren't they! the Colonel growled. Open all channels!

This is Lieutenant Colonel Samuels acting on behalf of the Commander of the Federation Starship Voyager to unidentified vessels. Stand to. I may decide to destroy the next ship to fire upon us! he claimed calmly.

Behind him the Captain appeared from the lift, Chakotay hard on her heels. She demanded, irritated at the Colonel's less than mild threat.

Begging pardon, Ma'am, he claimed. Six small single seat vessels have turned up and are intent on using us for target practice. So far they have failed to heed polite notices. I was hoping to persuade them with something a little stronger.

We don't do it like that, Colonel, she reminded him quietly. And by your regulations, you are supposed to ask permission to engage an enemy!

They fired first, Ma'am. We responded with like force. Regulations permit the use of matched force. No serious damage has been done, he commented.

They are talking to us, Sir! Carver warned quickly.

On screen, the Captain spat, stepping forward so that she could take the communication. Ready to apologise for the Colonel's threat, until a small face of a boy appeared on the screen.

It gazed at the Captain uncertainly, taking in the strange uniform. You aren't the target ship? He asked uncertainly.

Taken by surprise the Captain could only shake her head. She voiced after a moments hesitation. I am Kathryn Janeway, Captain of the Federation Starship Voyager. We are peaceful, but defend ourselves if we have to, she glared accusingly at the Colonel, who shrugged. As far as he was concerned his response was adequate for the circumstances. 

I should point out we have far more powerful weapons than your vessels. Now who are you and why did you try to attack us? She demanded.

The pilot of the strange vessel blushed, then rallied. I am Flight Lieutenant Vesa of the Imperial Air Force of Komos. We are on a training flight. We thought you were the target ship, his voice trailed of in embarrassment and he looked down.

You were very nearly an ex-lieutenant, the Captain scolded crossly. Weren't you taught to identify an enemy before attacking?

The face looked up. We were told to expect an unusual vessel that would try and deceive us, he explained, going bright red.

You were very lucky, the Captain continued softening her attitude somewhat, feeling compassion for the child on the small ship. The officer in command of the watch responded with unusual restraint. If he hadn't, we would be explaining to your parents why you haven't come home.

I have no parents, he responded quickly. My flight will however guide your ship to Komos. My ship is too badly damaged to keep up.

We will tractor it into our shuttle bay. Just keep your fingers off the fire controls, the Captain announced, glancing around at Ensign Kala at Ops, who was already working the controls to carry out the Captains command.

The Captain turned towards the Colonel. Perhaps you had better meet him? she suggested. Then you can apologise.

He looked puzzled. 

Never mind. You can still meet him. He might realise how lucky he is, she breezed.

  


Lieutenant Vesa sat at the controls of his small fighter, fearful of touching anything incase the alien ship decided to carry out it's threat and destroy his ship. When he and his flight had set off from Komos six hours previously, they had not expected to meet a strange vessel. The regular Air Force usually intercepted strange ships long before they were close enough to the home planet for training squadrons to intercept. He wondered how it would appear on his record. Attacking a seemingly friendly alien vessel would not look too well.

As his craft was gently set onto a landing space, he carefully deactivated his power systems , opened the canopy and scanned his surrounds with interest. The three other vessels in the hold were totally different from each other and his own delta winged fighter, he observed. He wondered if they were all as powerful as the heavy fighters. His eye's then tracked the actions of the others in the bay. There were four in boiler suits, under the watchful gaze of a female with yellow shoulders and bumpy forehead. They were busy watching small handheld devices, obviously scanning his vessel for anything that they thought might prove dangerous. Finally he spotted a tall man in green. He seemed to be examining him as he surveyed his surrounds. His left hand was sitting comfortably on the handle of a sword. It seemed a strange weapon on such an obviously advanced ship, he decided. It prompted him to examine the stranger more closely. He was dressed very differently to the others in the hold, it didn't seem to belong.

The stranger moved towards him, as if impatient for him to vacate the limited safety of his cockpit. Vesa noticed the way he moved, it was smooth, measured and purposeful.

He spoke quietly, but forcefully, like a Centurions. It was a voice that expected to be obeyed, his manner suggested consequences if it wasn't, yet the others in the room did not appear to be concerned by it. Perhaps it was because they were not the target. Lieutenant Vesa. I am Lieutenant Colonel Samuels. I have been requested to take you to the Captain's Ready Room for debriefing. If you would be so good as to follow me?

Devoid of choice Vesa climbed stiffly from his cockpit and tried to come to some form of attention before the imposing human.

He smiled, confidently. You have a long way to go to impress me son, after trying to attack us, he commented gently, eyeing up Vesa's own short body. If we hadn't detected how weak your weapons were you would have been scattered across the Universe by now.

Vesa swallowed uncomfortably. I am sorry, Sir! he stammered quietly.

The smile this time was more friendly. No harm done, Lieutenant. Just remember it for next time. Look before you dive in guns blazing.

  


The Captain weighed Vesa up carefully, her initial impression he was a child bore up when looking at him in the flesh. Barely 1.2Metres tall, with a shock of mousey brown hair and scruffy clothing, he could easily pass for a human child of about 8.

How old are you? She asked quietly, fearing confirmation of her fears.

Seventeen years, Ma'am, he admitted. I come to full maturity next year.

It was not as bad as she had feared. Why were you out here, without supervision?

We are a cadet training squadron. I was on my last test before being assigned to a defence squadron, he explained. 

I have failed the test. We did not find the raider, Vesa added unhappily.

The Captain smiled at him. The best talent for a commander, Lieutenant, she advised, is not to not make mistakes but to extract yourself from them in good order. That is right isn't it Colonel?

The Colonel in his turn smiled, it was a rule he had offered to the Captain months ago. Indubitably, Ma'am! he agreed amiably.

If you want more good advice on the subject, you should ask Colonel Samuels, she whispered conspiratorially. He has taught me!

Vesa eyed the Colonel again, he was still at attention his hand still on the long blade at his side. He suspected the tall man could teach him a lot of things.

In the mean time, I'll have Ensign Kim show you the ship, the Captain announced, calling for Kim to join them in the Ready Room. 

He can answer any questions you have about us, she claimed as Ensign Kim appeared in the doorway.

I don't think I am impressed. What are your impressions, Colonel? she quizzed quietly as they disappeared. I know you've formed one.

I don't think we have the key yet, Ma'am, he opined. Even if he was supposed to be in sole charge of a flight. I don't see somebody just letting him fly off without some sort of watch to prevent him getting into trouble.

I agree. When you see Seven see if she knows about the people of Komos. I assume you will be there when she comes out of regeneration?

The Colonel grinned sheepishly. Of course, Ma'am. But if Lieutenant Paris has achieved what she said she would, then Mrs Nine won't be out of regeneration for another couple of hours.

Soon enough. You are relieved, she decreed.

The Colonel slammed to attention, in customary fashion and departed.

  


Voyager was a marvel to Vesa, he found himself gazing at everything he saw in awe. From the advanced Astro-Navigation suite to the warp drive engines. The Imperial fleet had light drives but they were inferior by far to the system aboard this alien vessel. In comparison they were large, temperamental and potentially lethal. The tiny unit aboard Voyager was producing nearly as much power as a Star Drive on a battleship and the people were milling around it as if there was no danger involved. He wondered how quickly the technology could be used for Komos needs.

In Astrometrics Ensign Kim had patiently explained where Voyager was from and where it had started from in the Delta Quadrant. At first he had been sceptical about how far they had travelled but now appreciated how far people could fly in a vessel like this. 

Now he was going over his thoughts in the Mess with Ensign Kim, with Neelix enthusiastically supplying coffee.

But where does the Colonel fit in with your ship? he asked suddenly.

We rescued him from a ship after it was attacked by the Borg, Kim explained. He is also from Earth, but from our past. It is quite a complicated story.

So what does he do?

Kim stiffened uneasily. It was not an easy question to answer, unlike Neelix and Seven, the Colonel still had no explicit role aboard the ship. He try's to make himself useful, he offered lamely, then tried to explain the answer. He does not understand the technology, simply finds ways of using it. Sometimes it makes him look simple, other times gifted. Like the sword. He has tried our weapons, but thinks the ones he uses are more effective.

Are they? Vesa asked innocently.

Again Ensign Kim shifted uncomfortably. In his hands. Yes! He agreed. Then there is his wife.

His wife? 

Kim nodded warming to a well worn theme. The most beautiful woman aboard and the most unobtainable. I should know I tried to date her. She was a Borg..

A Borg! Vesa almost shouted in shock, interrupting a well versed litany from the Ensign.

Kim nodded again. We released her from the Collective.

She must not be discovered on Komos, Vesa urged. We have been raided by the Borg for more than one hundred years! She will be arrested and tried if she is discovered.

The young mans sudden revelation alarmed Ensign Kim and he leapt from his seat. We had better see the Captain!

  


I have been inefficient, Seven of Nine complained as the Colonel offered her a supporting hand to step from her alcove. I have neglected to review the results of my tests in Science Lab 3.

Silently the Colonel offered her two PADDS. Don't understand a word of them, he admitted happily, But I think they are the results you were waiting for.

Silently she scanned the contents before throwing them onto the computer console in frustration. My nano-probes will prevent a child forming. I will not be able to reproduce, she exclaimed in sudden passion.

She reached out for the cold comfort of the console to steady herself as her disappointment hit her harder than she had ever felt emotions before. It was the Colonel that her hand found and he griped it hard, before pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her.

She seemed to give way in his arms unable to support herself. 

He heard her sob. It was a sob full of pain and anguish. 

I wish to reproduce. I wish to extend the Samuels Collective, she blurted.

He cradled her firmly in his arms. It will be okay, he whispered, kissing her frantically on the forehead. Just let yourself go. I will always be here for you.

That will be ineffective. I cannot maintain the Collective! I am unrepairable, She claimed desperately.

The only Collective we need at the moment is us, he replied, keeping his voice soft despite the alarm he was feeling. The rest will wait.

They stood there for over 20 minutes, the Colonel physically holding Seven of Nine upright as her emotions burnt themselves out on his shoulder.

Janeway to the Colonel. Report to my Ready Room! The Captain voice sounded on his intercom.

He growled in irritation at the interruption and spared a hand to pull the badge from his chest and dropped it on the console behind him.

It did not stop it, it squawked again. Colonel report!

Turning whilst still holding Seven, he brought his fist down hard upon the device. It no longer made a sound.

  


The last sound that the Captain heard was a crackle over her intercom as the Colonel's badge smashed.

Computer, what was the last location of the Colonel? she demanded in alarm.

Lieutenant Colonel Samuels was last located in Cargo Bay 2.

Identify status of the Colonel's comm badge?

The badge is non-functional.

The Captain was now thoroughly alarmed. Locate Seven of Nine?

Seven of Nine is in Cargo Bay 2, the computer announced impassively.

She turned on Ensign Kim and Vesa. Stay here until I get back! she demanded and darted for the door.

Entering the Bridge at the run, she snapped, Tuvok, you're with me. Kim, secure the Cargo Bays. Tom, delay our approach to Komos.

With that she entered the turbo lift with Tuvok on her heels.

Captain, where are we going? Tuvok asked calmly as he waited for the lift to open.

Cargo Bay 2, she panted. Something is wrong there and I don't know what. Somebody destroyed the Colonel's comm badge.

The doors open and she was running again until she came to the heavy cargo bay door, there she stopped, afraid at what she was going to find inside. She was terrified, what of she did not know. But for the Colonel to lose his comm badge, or not reply, even to say he was going to be delayed for a while, then what ever it was was serious, potentially even lethal.

Tuvok, catching some of his Captains alarm, opened the door for her as soon as he caught up and they both entered phasors in hand. They found the Colonel sitting on a container, cradling Seven of Nine in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, asleep.

He looked up at them as the darted in, his face full of pain and despair, he whispered. She is asleep!

They stopped and stared at him incredulously. Why didn't you answer my hail? the Captain demanded furiously. Why did you destroy the comm badge? What happened? she added, spotting the remains of the instrument on the console.

He glared at her, his own temper on a short fuse. Because it was inopportune! he hissed coldly. My wifes needs are greater than yours at present. If you will excuse me. Now you have unlocked the doors, I will take her to our quarters!

I'll send the Doctor, the Captain announced quickly. Then I want a report.

The Colonel glared at her again, his face hardening to the point of fury. I will not let him past the door, Ma'am. If you want a report you may accompany me.

She had never seen the Colonel look so angry before. Stunned by the hostility, she simply nodded and stood aside as the Colonel gently carried Seven of Nine out of the bay.

Tell the Doctor, she whispered to Tuvok as the Colonel passed out the door, he may be needed. But I'm not sure who for. Then hurried after the Colonel.

She was allowed to watch him gently lay Seven of Nine on the bed and cover her gently with the duvet, then he bundled her out the room and turned to face her. His face softening as the door close behind him.

I'm sorry, Ma'am! He declared in more neutral tones. I supplied her with her test results. They weren't the ones she wanted!

He turned and slammed his fist into the wall in a sudden bought of frustration, then again as his own emotions caught up with him. Then he leaned against the wall, burying his head in his arm. If I wasn't so thick I would have understood the damned results! he sighed in a broken voice. 

She was so counting on them being positive. I don't know what to do next!

The Captain put her arm around him, trying to comfort the soldier. She had seen him like this before and it was terrifying. His devotion to the care of others, particularly Seven of Nine, was about the only thing that could break him. She would have found out, she whispered.

Not if I had understood the results! he wept. I would have done anything to prevent her. Even falsifying them if I had to!

Would you like me to see if there was a flaw in her tests? the Captain asked gently.

He considered the proposal carefully before replying. There is already a flaw in them, Ma'am. She carried them out. I think telling her her tests were flawed would cause more harm, he sighed, then rallied. I will find a way to put her back together again. I think we may ask to leave the ship, at least for a little while. If we can't have the first item on her wish list, the next will be even more important. I intend her to have that whatever it costs!

And what is that? she asked quietly.

To discover the galaxy for herself, Ma'am. 

The grin that accompanied the statement was desperate, but the Captain knew what he meant. Seven was fascinated by the physics of the Universe, the life forms that inhabited it were largely an irrelevant inconvenience.

She nodded. How would you survive? she asked quietly.

I'll look after that!

She did not like the answer. She did not doubt that the Colonel meant it and would probably achieve it for a long time, but they needed other things in their life. But it was unlikely she would get him to change his mind if he had set it.

This is not a good place for an ex-Borg to be! She warned. Vesa has told me that any Borg are summarily tried and executed if they are caught. I don't think even you can provide the protection she will need.

If they are as professional as Lieutenant Vesa, I am less than worried, he growled.

Sit with her for as long as you want, she suggested gently. I will not let anybody interfere. I know it looks bad now. Remember, Seven is tougher than you are in these circumstances. She will recover, because you will make sure she does. Just remember there are others aboard the ship who will help put you together as well!

He nodded unhappily. I'm sorry, Ma'am. I have allowed my emotions to take control, he bowed to her and re-entered his quarters.

There he dragged a chair beside the bed and settled uncomfortably into it, grasping Seven of Nine's hand as he waited.

  


The Captain returned to her Ready Room in deep thought. 

She barely noticed Ensign Kim and Lieutenant Vesa still waiting as instructed, until Kim coughed politely.

She turned to them cautiously. I will keep Seven away from Komos! She announced. Harry, look after our guest, until we can return him. Dismissed.

As they left she summoned Chakotay and Tuvok to her room. When they entered she bade them to sit and briefly went over what had transpired between her and the Colonel and Vesa's warning.

The Colonel is desperate for her to forget the problem, she finished. If that means he thinks she needs to leave the ship so that she can do it, then he will take her. I don't know how to stop him!

Do you think there is a possibility Seven made a mistake in her testing? Chakotay asked hopefully.

The Captain glared at him. They were Seven's tests. What do you think?

Basically the Colonel is correct in his assumption, Tuvok commented. Until she met the Colonel, Seven of Nine's interests were entirely in astronomical studies. I will endeavour to find a suitable subject. Perhaps we can keep Seven busy?

The Captain favoured him with a grateful smile. Do it! she urged. I will go through Seven's tests and see if there is a possibility of error. But just remember we are going to have to play this the way the Colonel plays us, with the subtlety of a Ferrengi Grand Negis.

  


Seven of Nine stirred from her sleep slowly, gently stretching from her curled up position. The Colonel sensing the movement, snapped alert from his own light doze and watched her intently, sliding off his chair and kneeling beside her ready for anything. She still looked a mess from the crying, her eyes red and puffy.

Feeling better? he asked, as her eye's finally opened and fixed upon his worried face.

I experienced emotional overload? she asked cautiously.

His brow crinkled quizzically. I think we could reasonably say you had an emotional overload, he agreed gently. Would you like a cup of tea?

That will assist in the repair?

He shrugged. It has never done any harm and your tolerance to alcohol is too low for a 

A 

It starts as tea, then is laced with rum. Hence it Was a' cup of tea. Quite fortifying, he explained.

Acceptable. You will provide a she demanded.

Are you sure? He asked quietly. It almost put the Captain on her back when I gave her one!

I am already on my back, she pointed out matter of factly. I am unable to fall further.

He smiled, Seven of Nine was coming back to life, demanding to try things that were outside of her experience. Suit yourself, he agreed turning to the replicator.

She watched cautiously as he poured two mugs of tea, then decanted a small quantity of dark fluid from a bottle he retrieved from a draw. He handed a mug to her and took a swig at his own. With some trepidation she sniffed at her cup. It did smell different beneath the alcohol, slightly richer, she decided, then took a brave sip and coughed as it burnt her mouth, not just from the temperature.

He grabbed the cup from her hand just as she entered into a fit of coughing.

As I said. Your tolerance for alcohol is too low for a Wassa, he claimed as she settled back onto the bed.

The flavour and after effects were unexpected, my tolerance to alcohol is not at question! she exclaimed, her voice slurring a little.

You want to try more? he offered the mug back to her. She shook her head, then regretted it, the Colonel's high powered 120% proof rum was having an effect on it already, it felt loose.

He leaned forward again and kissed her gently on the forehead. 

That felt altogether more acceptable, she decided and pulled him down to do repeat the exercise.

I'm still on duty, he whispered, feeling himself give way to her gentle pulling.

She pulled him closer. I do not wish to be alone, she whispered back.

I won't leave you alone, he promised, giving in and taking her in an embrace. I love you too much to do that!

They lay, wrapped in each others arms, for another thirty minutes without speaking, simply finding comfort in each others presence.

Finally Seven broke the peace. I am still be unable to reproduce. Do you wish to maintain our collective?

He took her head and held it, forcing her to look him in the eyes. You have got yourself closer to me and made me happier than anybody in God-only-knows years. I'm not going to let that go, just because we might not have children! He said firmly, locking his eyes on hers. I can only interact with the here and now. What tomorrow will bring I will leave to the Lord and schemers with ambition and deal with it when it arrives. You are my here and now', it is all I need and want!

There was no dispute in the voice, simple, forcefully put and satisfactory, Seven decided. You should return to your duty, she stated. I am sufficiently recovered. I shall resume my testing.

he snapped. 

She snapped a surprised look at him.

Just wait for a while. All you are doing is going round in circles, it is making you think you are less than you are! Nothing is worth that much pain. Give them a rest and see what inspiration tomorrow brings? he continued more gently. Besides we may have a chance to get away for a while on Komos.

Seven of Nine repeated, matching the term with her memories. Species 10032. Dwarf race. Technologically inferior. Assimilated occasionally for use as repair drones. Their short stature and strength makes them suitable for duties in parts of vessels not normally accessible. I can not go to Komos, they terminate drones they capture.

You are not a drone, the Colonel pointed out. You are my wife. Termination will not be an option for them!

You should return to your post. Seven pointed out again.

He looked at his watch. Posted duty was completed two minutes ago, he proclaimed happily. I am now at the disposal of the superior officer present. Your instructions, Ma'am?

She looked at him in puzzlement for five seconds as she worked out what he meant, then relaxed. Your orders were to care for me?

Captain was most insistent, Ma'am!

She considered that statement for a moment. Under the circumstances the Colonel probably had not given the Captain much choice.

You will continue to care for me for 1.63 hours! she announced. You may then assist me in my maintenance rounds.

  


Three hours later Captain Janeway ordered them to attend her Ready Room. She finished reading a PADD at her desk before glancing up and smiling. They could almost be two peas in a pod when they were stood beside each other like that, she decided. Both were ram rod straight, hands clasped firmly behind their backs, legs slightly apart, looking straight ahead.

She was, for her part, slightly nervous about how she was going to present her orders. She had spent nearly thirty minutes in consultation with Chakotay and Tuvok over how to propose the task. The advice she took in the end was Tuvoks; Be blunt.

I have decided we are going to Komos to see if we can gain materials to complete our repairs, She announced. But it could be dangerous for Seven to be found. They have a thing about Borg. So Tuvok has found something slightly better. There is a magnetic anomaly approximately six light years ahead. We don't know what it is, but it is on our flight path. I Want you two to check it out? It will save time and give you something interesting to do, if there is a problem at either end we can collect you on the way.

Seven responded immediately. The Colonel believes I have devoted too much time to my immediate quest and it is impairing my performance.

The Captain glanced at the Colonel questioningly. He nodded imperceptibly.

She opened with another smile. Excellent! You can go as soon as you can load the shuttle.

Seven turned sharply and left, leaving the Colonel behind for a moment. Permission to speak, Ma'am?

She nodded her acceptance.

Thank you, Ma'am! he intoned. But it was put unusually for you?

I was going to try and bluff you into volunteering Seven, she admitted in embarrassment, But Tuvok suggested making it into an order. We could never bluff you into volunteering, if it wasn't dangerous.

I wondered, Ma'am, he admitted with a wry grin. He slammed to attention, saluted then turned on his heal and rapidly followed Seven of Nine.

  


Six hours and much frantic scrounging from Seven of Nine for any parts she might need, the Colonel's favoured shuttle, the Valorian Starfighter, took to the air with the Colonel at the controls. 

The craft itself was a very different ship to how it started life. In the six months Voyager had been in the void, Seven of Nine and B'Elanna Paris, fired by boredom, had systematically stripped the equipment inside and replaced it. Changing it's nature from fighter to small, but competent, exploration ship. In many ways it was now far superior to the Delta Flyer, losing only in outright speed and accommodation, three people aboard was now definitely considered cramped. Seven of Nine was particularly proud of the new science and astro-navigation suite. She had modelled it upon her astro-metrics suite aboard Voyager, smaller and not as powerful, it could still pinpoint its position within a 300 light year radius and possessed a sensor suite that could detect more than thirty million anomalous features', as such it was superior to any sensor suite fitted to a shuttle and more than a few Star Ships. 

The Colonel for his part, preferred the small vessel simply because he found the controls more natural to use, preferring the feel of a flight stick, throttle and rudder controls, to the Flyers touch sensitive displays. He also didn't get Lieutenant Paris's accusing stare and worried glances if he was at the controls. The Flyer was the Lieutenant's toy, he worried about the scratches, the Captain had commented in amusement when Tom Paris had inspected it carefully after a particularly fraught training flight with the Colonel at the controls.

Course 300.120Zee35, Warp 3, Seven of Nine instructed settling to her console. Preferred or not, the Colonels take-offs could still be uncomfortable.

Course 300.120Z35, laid in and set. Engaging Warp 3, Ma'am! The Colonel parroted confirmation to his mission commander. Estimated arrival 49 hours. 

He turned in his seat to look at her concentrating on her controls. If you've left the gas on in quarters it is now too late to remember, he commented cheerfully.

She glanced at him in puzzlement. There is no gas supply in our quarters.

A turn of phrase, he apologised. People always forget something vital when they go on holiday. The gas, the milk deliveries, the cat, there is always something.

We do not posses any of those things. Nor are we on holiday'. We are performing a scientific expedition, she pointed out. My preparations were efficient. We have forgotten nothing. In the unlikely event we have forgotten something essential the replicator system aboard this vessel is capable of producing it.

Of course it can, he agreed. But it is nice to know we don't have to back again, unless we want to?

She caught the suggestion. You wish to leave Voyager? She demanded quickly.

He shrugged. I go where I'm told to go. Those are my orders. My home is with you. 

He smiled and returned to his own instruments, leaving her to make her own conclusion. Seven of Nine had faith in everything technological. Why she put as much faith in her husband was another mystery, he was anything but technological.

Your suggestion has merit, Seven said a few moments later, briefly looking up from her instruments.

  


I hope they remember they have a home here! the Captain murmured to Chakotay as they watched the small craft disappear. I hope we are doing the right thing! 

They will be back, Chakotay assured her. The Colonel left his Colours' with you. Has he ever explained what they mean to you?

Honour, duty, strength. Yes! she sighed. But Seven might mean more.

She turned back to her more immediate concerns. Tom, bring us into Komos.

We are being hailed, Captain, Tuvok announced an hour later.

Put them on screen, she demanded standing up and smoothing her jacket.

The face that appeared on the screen was not dissimilar to Vesa's, she noted. He looked like a young child and just as untidy, his shirt appeared to be done up incorrectly, his hair a mop.

I am Captain Kathryn Janeway, she intoned, Commander of the Federation Star Ship Voyager. We request permission to enter orbit, barter for materials to repair our ship and return a member of your air force to you. A Lieutenant Vesa?

The small figure nodded. I am General Hallock, Captain. I am aware of the circumstances of Lieutenant Vesa's presence aboard your ship. I apologise for his attack upon your vessel. He will be punished. His voice sounded high enough for a child as well.

He caused no damage, the Captain responded hurriedly. We would not have come close enough to make contact otherwise.

I will consider your plea on his behalf Captain, he assured her. I will supply coordinates for landing. You will be permitted to send small party's of your crew for recreational purposes.

Thank you. We will look forward to it, she thanked him. Janeway out.

  


Two hours later, Captain Janeway in the company of Tuvok, B'Elanna and Vesa beamed to the coordinates supplied. They were met by a contingent of twenty dwarfs, none more than 1.4 metres tall. The Captain recognised the foremost as the one that had identified himself as General Hallock and was still untidy.

He stepped forward. Captain Janeway. Welcome to Komos!

These guards will escort Lieutenant Vesa into custody, he waved to a group of eight Komon's. They were obviously guards of some sort, she decided; they wore uniforms. But the similarity ended there, guards even in Star Fleet managed to keep their tunics done up correctly. For once she was glad the Colonel was not with them. She could almost see the look he would give them, it was bad enough when he glared at security, the glare here would melt them.

She looked down on him with a jaundiced eye. I was hoping you would assign him as our guide? she confided hopefully. We don't want to do anything against your customs and offend people!

The General looked keenly at Vesa. You can face your trial later, he declared. You will be their liaison! Take them to the citadel.

I'm glad the Colonel isn't here, B'Elanna whispered to Tuvok as they were escorted away by their shambling guards. He would have a fit at this lot!

I am in agreement, Tuvok admitted. It might however prevent him attempting to smarten security.

They found themselves in a large comfortably furnished room. Unusually for such a seemingly dwarf race, it bad plenty of head room. It was comforting after having to bow almost double to get through some of the doors they had encountered.

We have some visitors over 3 metres tall, Vesa apologised over the high ceilings. Will you be comfortable here?

I think so, she agreed readily. Will you really be put on a charge?

He nodded. Mistakes are not tolerated. I will lose my place in the air force at least. Thank you for asking for me to be your helper.

He looked as if he would add more, but stopped himself as General Hallock returned with another party. This time they were bearing trays of food and drink.

Please make yourselves comfortable. We always try to make our guests comfortable, he urged, signalling for the trays to be placed on the small coffee tables. He took a small armchair for himself and helped himself from the delicacies piled upon the tray in front of him.

Please, Captain, tell me about your ship and why you are in our space? he asked, spraying crumbs.

The Captain and her Away Team relaxed into chairs and started to enthral the small General with their journey.

You mean you have beaten the Borg every time you have faced them? The General asked at the end. Even captured one of their number?

Captain Janeway considered the questions carefully before replying. I don't think we have ever beaten them, she said carefully. We have simply never been caught. As for Seven of Nine, she joined us. She has some Borg implants still, but otherwise she is much Borg as you are. In fact one of our party married her!

General Hallock grinned. Lieutenant Vesa told you we try then execute any Borg we capture and you are trying to protect the one you have? I will meet it and decide for myself whether that is necessary.

I sent her on a short exploration expedition out of your sector. There is an anomaly some six light years away that we find interesting. We will pick them up again when we leave, the Captain breezed. We are an exploration vessel and it is in our directives not to offend races, if at all possible. But you are welcome to visit our ship. I understand you are attacked periodically by the Borg?

General Hallock nodded. For over three hundred years we have been periodically raided. But we know how to deal with them now. They still try, but they haven't taken many for many years, he explained. May I bring some of my officers to see your vessel, it may help us to devise new defensive measures? We will of course reciprocate for your crew?

Of course.

Also if you can make up a list of what you need for repairs Vesa will try find our equivalents? Now, I suppose you will wish to return to your vessel? You are welcome to visit our planet at anytime.

The Away Team was escorted back to their arrival point. The General waited until they had dematerialised before turning to Vesa. Send vessels to track the Borg and its craft, he demanded.

  


The shuttle bearing the Colonel and Seven of Nine had an uneventful, but not dull, journey. Characterised by companionable silence and gentle affections, as they took turns to monitor their small ships progress and each other. The Colonel was still worried about Seven of Nine's seemingly obsessive desire to breed. Her recovery also made him ill at ease, it promised problems for the future. As it was not causing problems for the time being he put it aside.

Hoping to keep their quiet mission that way, they approached their target location with some caution. Both were examining their instruments carefully. Seven of Nine trying to ascertain the nature of the fluxes that they had come to investigate, deftly switching between sensor configurations, the Colonel simply trying to avoid anything they might meet.

They both spoke up simultaneously as they both came to a conclusion about their readings, drowning each other out.

Sorry, Ma'am! the Colonel backed down to his mission commander.

The magnetic fluxes we are investigating are not natural, Seven of Nine repeated. They are being amplified.

He grunted an acknowledgement. Wouldn't form some form of pen for a number of broken ships, would it? he asked. I have at least fifty appearing on the screen.

Seven of Nine agreed, rapidly resetting her instruments. We should move closer to investigate.

The Colonel applied power dutifully and allowed their small ship to drift towards the suspect dots that showed on his proximity screen. He felt himself tense as they flew closer, now he was checking through the cockpit windows as often as he was checking the screens, his hands gripping and re- griping the controls, ready for an immediate response to whatever came next. There was something wrong and he did not know what it was, it was a situation he did not like.

I have detected 330 vessels, Seven of Nine reported. Many are of a form I recognise, including a Federation Star Ship, others are unknown.

Why are they there? he asked. Any life signs?

I am unsure, she admitted. You will have to approach closer.

Is there anything there to prevent us getting clear again? he asked before complying.

she decreed. I will track the density of the flux and advise if it increases beyond our engines endurance.

Can we contact Voyager and let them know what we have found so far?

Negative, the flux is affecting our transmissions, she reported after a couple of moments.

Okay, you're the boss! he sighed closing the gap between them and the trapped ships.

There are many vessels displaying low power signatures and life support, she commentated as they closed. I can detect no life signs. Many vessels display the signs of having been attacked.

Space is unfriendly, the Colonel observed as they approached a derelict vessel. 

It looked familiar to the Colonel, though he was certain he had never seen it before. A saucer section sat upon a thick neck, the neck in turn was attached to a cylinder, two smaller cylinders were sat upon spindly stems attached to the rear of the cylinder.

Is that the Federation ship? he asked in the end.

Seven of Nine looked up from her instruments. Early Federation Excelsior Class Star Ship, she confirmed. In it's time the most powerful vessel in the Alpha quadrant, now considered almost defunct. Compliment 520. There are no life signs, life support minimal. Power readings suggest the vessel has been deactivated for storage. There is no serious damage apparent.

They continued to close the ancient vessel.

Scorch marks on the top of the saucer, would that be about the Bridge? The Colonel asked.

Affirmative. But the damage is insufficient for abandonment.

He pivoted around the ship and they passed the lower side. Apart from more scorch marks there appeared to be no serious damage. 

Can you tell what they could have been hit with? the Colonel asked eventually.

The effects have dissipated, Seven of Nine proclaimed. The scorch marks may be produced by almost any energy based weapon. They may have been trapped by the magnetic fluxes, though that seems unlikely at current levels.

I suppose we could go and have a look? he offered unenthusiastically. His sixth sense was still screaming of danger, but he could not find it.

Life support is adequate. We should investigate, she affirmed.

I'll bring us down just beside the neck' on the saucer, the Colonel announced. I don't want to leave our transport floating around. There is something not quite kosher here.

  


Seven of Nine beamed them both to Engineering and immediately set about inspecting the control consoles, whilst the Colonel inspected the surrounds.

The ship was powered down systematically, Seven of Nine reported. There is sufficient power to make the vessel operational.

And there was a very brief fire fight, the Colonel added, indicating two faint shadows on the floor. Who ever they were fighting were pretty good, they appear to have come from a direction they weren't expecting. Certainly not through the door. 

He looked up and spotted an open ventilation duct displaying more scorch marks and grinned. But perhaps not that good? I think we visit the Mess and the Bridge, in that order. He turned for the door.

I fail to see the logic in going to the Mess, Seven of Nine argued, hurrying after him.

Because it will be on the way and we will get some idea of how quickly they were attacked, the Colonel explained. If the dishes are still in place, the ship was overpowered quickly. If they are across the floor, there was a hell of a fight. If there are none at all they knew what was coming or whoever took it have had a hell of a cleaning spree. Remember how many there are in Neelix's Mess at all hours, there will be more on a ship this size.

The Colonel was correct. The Mess showed signs of having been in use immediately prior to the attack, there were over a dozen plates still on the tables, though there was no food upon them.

Orderly evacuation, he mused. Nobody was in a hurry, so they finished their meals first. Come on, the Bridge. We'll see if you can break into the logs?

The Bridge looked as if there had been a fight, all be it brief. Five small shadows showed the signs of the end of at least five people, attackers or crew it was impossible to tell. Again Seven of Nine settled at a terminal whilst the Colonel investigated everything else, before finally settling into the large armchair that dominated the centre of the derelict bridge. Quietly he slid his hand down the side of the cushion and traced its line and found a small object. He pulled it out, a key, possibly to a strong box. He gazed at it, as if it was going to tell him everything he wanted to know.

I have deciphered the logs, They are damaged but largely recoverable. Seven of Nine interrupted his reverie. The Captain was Captain Mike Hannah, the ship the USS Argonaut. They were captured fifty years ago.

Automatically she played the first from the point she thought most appropriate.

_The people of Komos seem remarkably friendly and contrite about their attack upon us, _the voice of Hannah played for them. _We were well entertained by Lieutenant Vesa and General Hallock and have brought several parties aboard to return the favour. We are almost ready to resume our journey home after recharging our batteries._

All's well so far, if a little familiar. I wonder of Vesa is a common name? But you have more to play? the Colonel suggested.

_Commander Morris and his party have disappeared on shore leave. He has not been happy with our progress for sometime. I wonder if he has decided to remain with our beneficent hosts rather than take on what still remains a long and possibly fruitless voyage._

Did he?

Seven of Nine raised an eye-brow at him and played the next part.

_Commander Adamskov has discovered a number of stowaways from Komos led by Lieutenant Vesa. I am having them brought to the Bridge to find out why, before we leave. We still have not found Morris and his party. General Hallock has advised us that they have asked to stay. He has accepted their request._

That was the last recording, Seven reported.

Tuvok would describe that as vague and circumstantial, the Colonel mused. What do you think?

I think Voyager is in danger, Seven of Nine responded immediately.

So do I, the Colonel agreed, still looking at the key in his hand. But I think Hannah was careless. Fortunately Captain Janeway is more careful than he was, she would never lose the key for the destruct switch. And she is confident enough to realise that missing crew is not abandonment. Let us hope that they think she is like him. Shall we go?

Fifteen minutes later the Colonel was launching their ship from the underside of the old Star Ship.

There is another vessel moving! Seven of Nine warned. It appears of similar construction to the Komos fighter.

The Colonel responded immediately, bringing their ship back into close proximity with the larger vessel. Have they detected us? he asked quickly.

Negative. We are being masked by the Argonaut, Seven of Nine affirmed. I will advise on a suitable evasion course as their course becomes clear.

There will be more about, he warned.

I will keep an eye open for them as well, she promised.

Thirty minutes later Seven of Nine piped up again. Another small vessel has entered the area, six other vessels are taking station around the anomaly. We will not be able to escape undetected.

Can we out run them? he asked quickly.

Again she checked her instruments. We would be faster, but we would be within weapons range for 10.3 minutes. We may not survive the engagement.

We had better ask them to move then, he suggested mildly.

You intend to ask them to move? Seven of Nine queried, the eyebrow moving.

Asking might be a little simplistic. But yes!

He did not answer immediately, but sat and thought. Could we get this tub moving? he asked quietly, pointing at the Argonaut.

You are intending to use the ship as a decoy? Seven asked, considering the question. It would require several hours, we would be detected.

Actually I was going to blow a hole through them, he claimed, waving the key he had found. How about if I gave them the run-around?

I would require assistance. It is not as automated as Voyager.

Bugger! Is there anything more manageable here?

I will check. You need to take course 39.24Z13. One quarter impulse to avoid detection.

Roger, Ma'am, he agreed launching their craft again. Out the corner of his eye he saw the stern of a small fighter nosing its way past another of the derelicts.

There is a Hirogen ship 300Km on the port bow. The engines are still powered, Seven volunteered. I believe I can guide you there without being detected?

Lead on, the Colonel agreed.

An hour later the shuttle was in close contact with the Hirogen and Seven of Nine was studying her readouts closely. Some damage to the port engine, the control room has been significantly damaged. No life signs. It will be adequate.

Do you need help? the Colonel asked.

She considered the prospect carefully, the Colonel's protection would be a benefit, his technical expertise would not. Assistance to redirect controls will not be required, she decided. You will need to keep our ship masked.

Go armed then, he suggested.

She nodded at him, clipped her belt around her waist, followed by a tricorder and phasor and beamed out. The Colonel redirected his screens to the task of tracking the ships that were searching for them.

  


Seven of Nine scanned her beam down site carefully. The instruments aboard the Valorian shuttle had claimed there were no dangers aboard, but she had learnt some of the Colonel's caution in these circumstances. Satisfied that there was no immediate danger she made her way towards the engineering section.

The room, like the rest of the ship, was devoid of signs of life. Several consoles were damaged, but they did not appear to be critical. She set to work. The longest and most difficult operation was to gain navigation control from engineering. It was there she started, accessing the inside of several control panels and performing rapid reprogramming.

Twenty minutes later, she felt the familiar itching of the Colonel contacting her using their implants. He must have moved the shuttle, she decided. The Borg implant inserted in the back of his head had a very short range, less than 50 Metres normally, unless they were both attempting to concentrate. 

They have got their act together. They are now running a coordinated search, he advised. You have about fifteen minutes.

I will need thirty, she thought back.

Roger. I will keep an eye on them and turn everything off, if they look as if they might see us.

She returned her concentration to her reconfiguration tasks. Gaining final control of navigation was proving more difficult than she anticipated.

She left engineering, her tricorder in hand and headed towards the control room. Scanning the course of the various circuits as she walked. She found a likely junction box and examined the circuits before confidently resuming her reworking.

A short while later she felt a new signal. She stopped for a moment to consider it. It was a type she had not received for many months and it sent a chill through her. A Borg vessel was approaching.

The realisation left her uncertain as to how to proceed. If she used her implant to warn the Colonel, the Brog would detect it. If she used her communicator, the Korans would. She returned to her task with renewed vigour, hoping that the Colonel would detect the presence of something new.

She completed her tasks with three minutes to spare and settled to wait nervously for the Colonel's next instruction, still not daring to try and transmit a warning.

  


The Colonel had reviewed his position carefully. Unlike the larger Argonaut, the Hirogen ship was largely devoid of nooks and ledges to hide a large shuttle in or behind. It meant that the Valorian shuttle was hidden purely by the virtue of being a black ship attached to a black hull, in silhouette it would show, even if he turned the power off. The realisation forced him to slide into Seven of Nine's station and investigate the other local options. He was by no means an expert on the advanced sensor suite, but he could manage the imaging equipment. 

He used it to examine the three nearest vessels in detail. The first he examined looked like a huge breeze' block. He estimated it was well over half mile tall, perhaps two long. His analogy with a breeze block proved accurate. There was a large hole in the side. Quickly he identified it's position and course, then slipped back to his seat to check on the progress of the other vessels.

They were not in sight. 

Quickly he extended the sensor range to find them. They were sailing away, even the stray sensor signals from the guard ships were thin enough not to detect the stealthy Valorian fighter. He sighed with relief, and slowly applied power to launch his craft at the hole he had found. Too much power and the movement would be detected, not enough and he would not reach his target before the enemy returned. It was a fine balancing act, that had him controlling direction, thrust and the antics of the enemy with full concentration. He did not pick up the signals Seven of Nine had identified.

What he did pick up was the Koran fighters turn to begin their return search and he applied a little more power to hit the gap in the block shaped vessel before he was detected, finally slipping in just before they came in range of their sensors.

The gap proved to be a large hold, with exits at both sides of the vessel. A number of large containers were still located inside and he brought his craft to rest beside one of those. Nobody would be able to detect his ship, unless they physically came inside, yet he could see most of what was happening outside. He checked his watch, it would be another 10 minutes at least before Seven of Nine's estimate expired.

He was about to emerge from his hiding place again, when he spotted the Koran fighters heading directly for his hiding place. Quickly he brought the ship to a halt and waited for the indicator that would prove that he had been detected, hands held over the weapons controls.

They streaked past less than 100 miles away without detecting him. In fact, apart from high exhaust emissions, the Colonel picked up no transmissions of any sort from the two ships as they sped past.

Puzzled, he slid forward again to confirm the readings. There was still nothing. Cautiously he slid the craft clear of its hiding place. It was there that he was hit by the sound of a million voices rattling inside his head. Mentally he reeled from the impact, as his own voices added to the chaos in his head. The analytical one calmly pointed out the danger from a Borg vessel. A more excited one shouted yelled at him to collect Seven of Nine and scram. A desperate one screamed for him to stop the noise. None were helpful.

With a supreme effort he examined the screens in front of him, trying to focus enough to find the Borg ship as his head swam from the noise. He picked up a fuzzy reading about 5000 miles away. He hoped it would be far enough away for him not to be detected and slid the shuttle towards the Hirogen ship with Seven of Nine aboard. At the same time he risked a communicator message to Seven.

If you didn't know already. We have Borg company, three ships, I think. The Komans have buggered off. I'm coming to collect. Why are they so noisy and how do I stop it?

Seven of Nine's response was thankful. She had also been alarmed at the level of overriding confusion that was being transmitted from the invading ships. Affirmative. The vessels must be badly damaged for such extremes of transmission. 

In the large locker behind my station there are neural suppressors, they may be sufficient to dampen the interference, she continued calmly. Imagination was still not her strong point, but from the level of confusion she could feel, she knew how the Colonel, unused to the collective mind and the continuous murmur it induced, must be struggling to control himself.

The Colonel reached for the locker Seven of Nine had identified and found the two devices she had described, found the switch on one and clamped it beside the implant on his neck. Immediately the noise was reduced to a level he could concentrate.

He inspected the screens again and picked up the course the three vessels were taking.

Seven, they are coming to have a look at the derelicts. Lay low, he ordered.

He turned everything he could off to cut his own transmissions and allowed his vessel to drift silently towards the Hirogen ship hiding Seven of Nine. Finally bringing it into contact with the vessel with a loud clang. The noise shook them both as it echoed around their respective ships, but it was not so hard it would be picked up by the Borg vessels.

They waited nervously, not daring to operate scanners or communicate with each other, for fear of the transmissions being picked up. Nor even being able to see their prospective foe. The only indication either of them had that the Borg were still in the area were the transmissions that they were both receiving and trying hard to ignore.

  


Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay dutifully bade farewell to one party, then welcomed yet another from Komos. General Hallock seemed to have a desire for everybody to inspect the foreign vessel. In the last three days over sixty dignitaries had appeared, been escorted around then sent home again with good wishes from the Captain. In addition the transporter logs had shown nearly 600 others had come aboard on other pretexts, science, cultural, noseyness. The Captain had left the task of controlling their activities to Tuvok, though the ineluctable Vulcan was now uncertain how many had come aboard and how many had departed. The transporter logs suggested that several more had left than had arrived, a situation that was impossible and he had been forced to carry out a physical head count in the transporter room every time parties came and went.

Nor had the hospitality been one way, nearly half the crew had had the opportunity to visit Komos and B'Elanna Paris had nearly all the materials she needed to finish repairs to the ship. Satisfied that all was now ready, the Captain was now anxious to set off on the journey home again and collect Seven of Nine and the Colonel, if they had not decided to branch off on their own.

You must come to the formal ball! General Hallock insisted. When she told him of her decision.

You and your senior officers. We do not get many friendly visitors, he added enthusiastically.

She smiled and agreed good naturedly.

Thus it was she, Commander Tuvok, Lieutenants Vorick and Tom Paris and Neelix beamed down to Komos to attend the last function before they set off again. B'Elanna had elected to stay behind to finish her preparations in Engineering, Kim had volunteered to assist.

They were escorted to the reception room in which they had first been shown to on arrival. Only this time the comfortable furniture had been removed in favour of a large clear area and a table to seat fifty of the dwarf Komon's plus their guests.

  


Seven of Nine felt the chaos in her mind slacken and relaxed a little as she recognised new commands amongst the melee. The Borg were pulling out and they had not detected the two humans. She risked a brief communicator message to the Colonel to translate the new orders and was relieved by his instant reply. It had been a lonely twenty hours with out his comforting presence, while the Borg had been investigating the stockpile of old ships.

Aboard the shuttle the Colonel immediately set to work. He initiated a quick sensor sweep that located the three Borg vessels and their course. It had him cursing and contacting Seven of Nine.

Seven, get that ship moving. Do it slowly, he demanded. The Borg are heading for Komos, or too close for comfort. We have to get a message through to Voyager before they sail straight into them!

We will not be able to use communicators until the Borg reach Komos, Seven of Nine pointed out, not to spoil the Colonel's intentions, more to inspire him into some form of solution.

Just get it moving with a constant acceleration. Set a course that is almost parallel to them but converging. If there are shields bring them up. When you are happy, shout and I will lift you out. We'll worry about signalling Voyager later.

I am ready! Seven of Nine reported fifteen minutes later. I have configured the shields to initiate when the vessel has been detected.

Even better! The Colonel agreed, activating the transporter to return her to the shuttle.

He met her as she expected, with open arms and a passionate kiss. She accepted and appreciated both. A quick glance around the cabin showed what the Colonel had been doing during their enforced idleness. 

He had systematically emptied his pack, removing anything not required in battle, then repacked. He had also changed into full battle dress from his usual bottle-green suit. She guessed that the rest of the time he had used to clean and sharpen his weapons.

You are expecting to fight? she asked mildly.

It is a possibility, he agreed.

One other item came to her notice. A small casket sat beside her console, curiously she opened it.

Why are these here? She demanded in alarm as the Cathor Crystals glimmered at her.

He shrugged. I was asked to put them somewhere safe. The Captain was not entirely happy about them being in the armoury and for obvious reasons she didn't want them in her safe. I forgot to find another hiding place when I packed for this jaunt.

They are a danger to us, she snapped. If not directly, then if the Borg find them.

They aren't supposed to be a problem while they are together and I think our ugly friends may be in more danger from them than we are. Simply because before they take them, I will break them apart again and throw them into the deepest and darkest corners of the cube I can find. he vowed.

A warning light appeared on Seven of Nine's console dragging her attention back to more immediate problems. 

The cube has detected the Hirogen vessel. Shields have activated, She announced.

Keep track of what they are doing. Will they shoot or capture it?

They are trying to capture it, Seven responded. The Hirogen ship is captured in a tractor beam. We should disengage now.

Not yet. We would be sitting ducks. How long does it take to refocus the tractor beam?

15 seconds, Seven answered automatically.

Say ten to notice we are there, the Colonel mused aloud.

Tell me when we are twelve seconds from being dragged in, he said.

We will be captured when we try to escape, Seven of Nine protested.

We aren't going to escape. We are hitching a ride. You said yourself before we can make contact with Voyager these ships will make the warning pointless. So I intend to attach us to the cube until we can make contact. We should be able to escape with the wreckage when they leave again, the Colonel claimed confidently.

Seven of Nine considered the Colonel's confidence as she watched her screens. It did not seem appropriate, but accepted the need to contact Voyager. It would be their two lives against the 150 aboard Voyager. It seemed a fair trade. She did not believe the Colonel would allow them to be taken and she was glad of that. She liked what she had too much to allow herself to become a drone again.

Twelve seconds, she announced.

Immediately he released the docking magnets and powered the engines, slipping their small craft away from the Hirogen ship that had provided a surrogate home for them and out along the side of the cube.

Fortunately the Borg are not big in windows, he commented softly as he skimmed over the cube looking for a safe landing spot. That will do! He pointed at a crevice between two towers and brought them to a safe landing.

Did they detect us? He asked immediately they landed.

Seven admitted. We are in too close for detection.

He grinned at her. As soon as you can send a burst message to Voyager, then shut everything down. Are you hungry?

I do not require nourishment at this time, Seven announced bluntly. The cubes are going into transwarp now! Signal will be sent in one hour. Cube arrival in twenty. Voyager will have four hours to react.

  


So what would you like to do for nineteen hours? The Colonel asked mildly an hour later, turning his seat around to face her. Their message had been despatched and they had still not been detected.

It was one of the two questions that Seven of Nine had posed to her herself at frequent intervals over the previous hour. The other was the probability of escape from the Borg when the journey was complete. The second looked exceptionally poor, even with the Colonel's fabled survival instincts. It rather answered the first. She slipped from her seat and onto the Colonel's lap.

I wish to be assimilated by you, she said quietly, then kissed him hard. I may not get the opportunity again!

  


The duty communications ensign picked up the burst transmission, noted that the sender was Seven of Nine and coded for the Captain and forwarded it. Seven and the Colonel were at least two days away. She did not remember it again for another hour when Chakotay came on the Bridge.

Anything to report? Anything from the Captain and the ball? He asked quietly.

Nothing but a report for the Captain from Seven of Nine, Commander.

I wasn't expecting anything from them for a couple more days. What did she say? He asked mildly.

I didn't decode it, the ensign admitted, then thought. It did seem unusual. It was a burst transmission.

Chakotay looked up sharply. Decode it quickly. They may be in trouble.

She did so as quickly as she could, her embarrassment making her fumble, while Chakotay started to pace. Finally she completed the task, blanched and read off the message.

There are three Borg cubes enroute to Komos. Arrival estimated 21:00, She read. 

Chakotay checked the chronometer. Less than three hours! He exclaimed in alarm. Contact the Captain. Bring her back now!

He hit his communicator. All stations Red Alert. Ensign Kim to the Bridge!

He thought for another moment, half the prime deck crew were on the planet, it left him short of pilot, tactical officer and Captain. Dog Watch to the Bridge, he added. They were the best and the most inventive team aboard the ship, they may need to be inventive.

I can't raise the Captain, Sir! The ensign reported.

He could sense the panic forming in her voice.

Contact Seven of Nine and keep trying for the Captain.

Kim appeared from the turbo lift, rapidly followed by the Dog Watch. They were immediately turned on by Chakotay.

Harry long range scans, look for a transwarp conduit or Borg vessels. Kala assist him and find the Captain, Chakotay demanded. Winston, take the Conn. Carver, take Ops. I want the Captain and Seven of Nine.

I've got the Colonel, Sir! Carver reported a few minutes later. Still trying to raise the Captain.

Chakotay shot the ensign a grateful look and started to speak. Status report, Colonel?

The Colonel's voice broke in. We and our hosts will be over Komos in a about two hours, Sir. I intend to switch hosts when they have finished. You can come and collect us then.

Where are you? Chakotay put in quickly.

Attached to the lead cube. Look, can we keep this short. They haven't found us yet I want it to stay that way!

We can't get hold of the Captain! A stunned Chakotay blurted. We can't even detect her!

There was a pause, long enough for Chakotay to query, 

It figures. Your hosts aren't all they claim. Get out of there Captain and watch your backs. Seven of Nine and I will find Captain Janeway. Ensign Carver, you play that tune again. I will break your neck! Out!

Get him back! Chakotay shouted.

Sorry, Sir. The Colonel has terminated the communications, Carver responded.

I've found the conduit, Sir. Details passed to Conn. Still no trace of the Captain, Ensign Kala reported.

Evasion course plotted and laid in, Ensign Winston advised a moment later. We require 65 minutes to avoid detection.

Gives us twenty-five minutes before we need to break orbit, Sir! Carver reported. Increasing scan rates to accommodate.

In bewilderment Chakotay looked around at the Dog Watch crew. As was always the case they had predicted the commands that would arise and were ready to execute them without question. All he needed was to give the command. He remembered the advice he had given to Harry Kim when he had commanded this watch, It could either be the easiest or the hardest watch you'll ever command.' he had predicted. This was going to be the hardest he had ever taken, they were keeping him on track to make the right decision, even though it was going to be the hardest.

Keep scanning until the last minute, he commanded, then settled into his chair for an uncomfortable wait. 

What was the tune you played to get the Colonel's attention? He asked suddenly of Carver.

The Ensign smiled knowingly. The British Grenadier, Sir. It irritates the Colonel immensely. Guaranteed to get a response.

  


When the communications system had started to play The Grenadier', the Colonel was busy ejecting Seven of Nines probes, from his blood stream into a specimen jar. The previous twelve hours had revealed a side of Seven of Nine he had never realised existed. One that was desperate to experience human feelings of love and pleasure and magnified by the fear of being forced to rejoin the Borg. He was exhausted, he didn't think she was in much better state. Certainly not by the probe count in the jar.

He collapsed in his chair and considered the next move. Up until now he had been reasonably confident they could escape the activities of the Borg over Komos. Now they had a new task, one that would bring them into direct contact with the enemy.

Seven of Nine dressed then joined him, sitting upon his lap and draping her slender arms around him.

I think we may be biting off more than we can chew, he commented, kissing her tenderly. We have to rescue the Captain on a planet, I know nothing about, while keeping out of sight of not just the locals but the Borg as well! Any bright ideas?

Seven of Nine smiled at him, a rare event. I have observed your performance is superior when the circumstances become difficult. The degree of difficulty in this scenario is sufficient for you to be inspirational! she declared.

My greatest fan, he grinned. We have a couple of hours. Let's see what we can come up with. First can we acquire some sort of map of Komos. Perhaps we can reduce the number of targets we have to cover?

  


Captain Janeway, with General Hallock standing beside her, found that she had become the centre of attention of a small gathering of the diminutive Komon's. It had been like that for nearly three hours. It was a group she had been hoping to lose so that the away team could return to Voyager. But every time she brought the subject of a diplomatic exit more of the dwarves appeared and a new discussion was started. 

An orderly slipped up beside them both and the General turned to face him.

They are here, General! The orderly reported cryptically.

The General nodded. And the other thing?

All is in place, Sir.

It was a happy General that turned back to the Captain. Now I'm sure you wish to get underway, Captain Janeway! He announced breezily. We cannot detain you further. I have other duties to deal with. Lieutenant Vesa will escort you to your landing point.

He left, almost hurriedly, the Captain thought in puzzlement. She chose to ignore any possible implications in favour of a quick exit, calling her party together and heading for the door.

Why do they wish to dispose of us so quickly, Captain? Tuvok asked quietly as a party of twenty Komos Soldiers fell in around them. Until now they seemed to have a desire to detain us.

I don't know, the Captain admitted. I think something has come up. I'm not complaining. I've been trying to get away for hours. I'm starting to hate diplomacy!

They arrived at their beam down point and were surprised by another group of armed soldiers appearing around them.

What is happening? Tom Paris demanded in alarm as the company of soldiers levelled weapons at them.

We have three Borg vessels orbiting the planet, Vesa announced nervously. We have come to an arrangement with them. You are the arrangement. Captain, remove your communications devices and order the rest of your crew to do the same.

The Borg do not honour agreements! Captain Janeway protested in horror.

Vesa shrugged, but he was still nervous. They have done so for nearly a hundred years, Captain. We provide technology and people they are interested in and they do not take more than a few dozen of our people. They seem to be very interested in you and your ship. They responded as soon as we signalled them. They do not seem to want any of our people at all this time! Now please remove you communications devices, we will render you unconscious and take them if necessary.

  


I have detected the Captain! Seven of Nine announced from her station. They are in the company of at least twenty others, proceeding to point 113.456. There are an additional two hundred Komon's there waiting for them.

Too many, the Colonel muttered. He had been stood in the shuttles transporter zone for twenty minutes waiting to respond immediately when Seven of Nine detected the missing Voyager crew. Can we beam them out before they get to the meeting place?

The plan they had devised had been for the Colonel to intercept the Captain when they moved to their transport location, then to keep them hidden until she could safely beam them out. He had not expected them to be guarded by two full companies.

Seven of Nine checked her sensors again. They have not emerged from the dampening field. A second field has been erected around the landing zone. I am unable to beam you close enough to intercept. I am attempting to modulate the frequencies to overcome it, however they are deploying multiple frequency modulation, it will require some time.

she added. The Borg have not sent drones to begin assimilation, nor is Komos offering resistance.

He pulled his pack off and took the pilots seat. Sounds as if they are dealing with them. We need plan C'. If I can't take out their guards and you can't break their dampening, we might be pretty stuck. How about an air to ground attack?

We would be intercepted, Seven of Nine pointed out calmly. I have lost contact with the Away Teams communicators. They have been removed.

Can we intercept the Borg transporters?

We have insufficient power to achieve that.

Can we get them from where ever the Borg put them?

Without communicators I will not be able to lock on their locations.

The Colonel paused for thought before looking up again with another idea. Can you put me where they are beamed to?

Seven of Nine considered that question carefully. The implications were obvious. The Colonel was intending to take on the whole crew of a Cube. She admitted at last. However the transport would be detected, subsequent transport will be blocked. I will not be able to bring you back. Nor will you be able to defend them for long. I am not prepared to remain here alone.

He picked up the phial containing the probes he had extracted earlier and shook it at her. Put these back in. We go together and we are going to become pirates, he said simply.

She avoided asking the question about what he intended to steal only because her scans revealed a transport in progress. They also revealed something else.

The cube is about to enter Transwarp! She called quickly.

  


  


  


   [1]: mailto:story@rgower.f9.co.uk



	5. Final Conflict Part 2 (new 25/6/01)

Final Conflict part 2 

_Continues:_

_Captain Janeway is rescued, but refuses the chance of escape in favour of helping the Colonel's war effort._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The story line and the Colonel are my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail [story@rgower.plus.com][1]._

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start with the Colonel_

_This story is rated PG13_

_©R Gower 2001_

  


The Captain looked around her when she materialised. Even if she had not known the fate awaiting her, she would recognise the dark surrounds and dull green lighting anywhere. A brief head count showed that the three remaining members of her party were also with her, as was Vesa.

I thought you weren't invited? she growled at the unfortunate dwarf, grabbing him by the arm and shaking him.

I'm sure there was a mistake. I will be released directly, he stammered.

The Borg do not admit to mistakes, she snapped sourly. They certainly won't correct one. You are one of the damned as well.

She turned to Tuvok, who was already examining their cell. She asked.

Negative, Captain, he reported mildly. We have no weapons or tools. I may be able to deactivate the force field. However how we would proceed after that I am uncertain.

Keep on it. Tom and Vorick help him. We will deal with what to do afterwards. At least they don't seem too interested in us at the moment.

We are the Borg. You will be assimilated, your racial distinctiveness will be added to the Collective and enhance our own. Resistance is futile! The familiar litany played at them echoing through the ship, accompanied by screams.

Put another record on! Tom Paris shouted at the message, then turned apologetically to the Captain. It sounds as if the Borg are taking hostages, Captain?

They span around as the familiar hum of a transport in progress came from behind them. The transport revealed the slender figure of Seven of Nine and the rather more war like figure of the Colonel. His rifle already levelled and scanning the surrounds. It locked on Vesa.

Start talking Lieutenant, before I splatter what you have across the bulkhead, the Colonel barked. Start with the other Federation Star Ship and how you people took it without a serious fight?

The Captain exclaimed in surprise. Why are you here?

He ignored her. You have ten seconds to start talking, Lieutenant!

Vesa looked around in alarm for somewhere to hide. Finding no where and the gaze of everybody upon him he started to speak.

One hundred years ago the first Borg cube arrived. We had no defences against such a ship and they took over a million of our people. They came back a few years later, and again a few years later still. It was becoming a regular feature, they stole any advanced technology we had. Before we thought they were due again we trapped an alien vessel. It was more advanced than ours and we offered it to the Borg to leave us alone. It worked after a fashion, the numbers of our people they took were reduced to no more than a couple of hundred. It worked the next time as well, so we started to collect for them. The Star Ship you stumbled upon was captured in the same way yours will be. We stowed nearly two hundred warriors aboard the vessel. They will take control of key parts of the ship and force them to surrender. The ship and captive crew will be placed in orbit around the magnetic anomaly you went to investigate. Please don't shoot me! I didn't know.

You may well be begging me to shoot you, Lieutenant. You aren't 16 either, are you? I heard the Captains logs aboard Argonaut.

Vesa shook his head. I am 53 in your years, but our lives are much longer than yours. Our short stature makes people unfamiliar with our race believe we are younger. It was my father that helped take the Argonaut. Please I had nothing to do with it. I have only just found out the truth myself from the General!

The Colonel glared at him for a few moments and watched him squirm. It satisfied him that he had received the truth. He lowered his rifle and stood stiffly, before saluting the Captain. Sorry, Ma'am. But I had to get a better view of the truth.

Never mind. I have more pressing problems, she snapped. Why are you here and where is Voyager?

Mrs Nine and I are the rescue party, the Colonel answered cheerfully. As for Voyager, even if she wasn't before, she is a long way away now. This bus dropped into transwarp as soon as it beamed you aboard. It is why we were a little late getting here. My apologies, Ma'am.

And you have a plan? the Captain asked carefully.

Yes, Ma'am, he declared brightly. I intend to ask the Borg to surrender!

Everybody, except Seven of Nine, choked on the easy declaration.

Just how are you intending to do that? the Captain demanded.

Well first I will have to do a few things, like place a couple of bombs and of course declare war. But otherwise I haven't got a clue, he admitted. Now. As you are all safe for the time being, you will excuse Mrs Nine and myself. We need to see the conductor and arrange for us to stop at a suitable bus stop.

Seven, what is he babbling about? the Captain cried turning to Seven of Nine and hoping for a more sensible conversation. There were times when the Colonel's form of speech dropped into cryptic and analogous similes, that were probably as clear as a bell to his own men, but meant nothing to her.

The shuttle cannot be released while we are in transwarp, Seven explained. The Colonel intends to bring the cube to a halt so that you may be safely beamed aboard and escape.

You said Tuvok interrupted. Did you not mean 

Seven of Nine shook her head. The shuttle will be destroyed, if we are unable to create sufficient damage. The cube is enroute to Unimatrix 01. Colonel Samuels intends to destroy the Collective.

Silence reigned amongst the captives again as the statement sank in.

the Captain asked at last in resignation. There must be millions of Borg aboard the Unimatrix. He isn't intending to kill them all with his sword. Is he?

It is unlikely that would have the desired effect, Seven of Nine pointed out. However I am uncertain of his real intentions. It is safer for him that I do not. My implants may broadcast his intentions to the Collective if I did.

Then why are you here, Seven? the Captain asked more gently, stepping close to Seven of Nine.

I will not allow him to attempt the task on his own, Seven whispered back. He believes he will succeed, but he will die in the process. He is my collective. I should be with him.

Mrs Nine, can you rig the force field across this aperture so that the Borg can't get in? the Colonels question interrupted the Captain and Seven's discussion.

The Captain turned and found the Colonel on the outside of the force field, with Seven of Nine stepping after him. How did you do that? She demanded in surprise. Feeling she was rapidly losing control of the situation.

I'm bloody minded, he reminded her. 'It can't be done' is not in my admittedly rather limited vocabulary. Besides I have Borg bits, so I can walk through. He grinned at her.

I'm not leaving you aboard this ship! The Captain exploded. You won't survive!

He smiled apologetically. I'm sorry, Ma'am. But this is a situation where you will have to take my orders, like them or not. Mrs Nine leave the Captain the remote for the transporter. You will know when to use it, Ma'am?

Captain Janeway nodded uncertainly and grabbed the torch like device Seven of Nine handed her through the force field.

Seven turned for the force field controls and tapped a few pads before announcing, The field will no longer accept Borg directives.

The response from the Colonel was characteristically simple. He smacked the panel she had been working on with his fist, smashing it. And now they can't persuade it to accept them again, he declared.

Mrs Nine, you may escort me to the main power system, he announced, offering her his arm.

The Captain watched them casually stroll away arm in arm as they often did aboard Voyager, then step around two drones that appeared. There was no way the Colonel could achieve what he was intending. She was sure of that. It would only lead to his assimilation.

She turned back to the other captives. I am not going to let him try what Seven claims, she announced. Tuvok, find me a way out of this cage! I've got to stop him!

Your life will be in danger and you may compromise his plan, Tuvok warned quietly.

You think he has one! Tom Paris entered the discussion with an exclamation.

I do not know, Tuvok admitted honestly. However, the Colonel has an objective. I have observed that is often adequate. He would not allow Seven of Nine to be present unless he believed he could succeed.

Find me a way out of this cell! The Captain growled again at Tuvok, terminating the conversation. If they manage to stop the cube. You will take Tom, Vorick and Vesa and return to Komos and find Voyager. I will stay here.

  


It was a mistake to give Captain Janeway the control for the transporter, Seven of Nine opined as she strolled beside the Colonel. She will not return to the shuttle with the others.

I am not happy with how easy this is, he replied as they stepped past another party of Borg work drones. 

As was customary the Borg were tasked to a single function and seemed to ignore the interlopers. It surprised the Colonel. He knew that the few Borg implants and the probes in his body might help reduce the probability of him being detected. But he had not expected this level of invisibility without extra effort on his part.

It has all the hallmarks of being a trap. The Captain running interference, with her own brand of chaos might be helpful, he finished.

That is my function? She demanded, stopping to look at him squarely in the face. To provide interference?

I sincerely hope not! I need you to show me where I can cause the most damage! I've told you before. I will protect you until my last breath and I will!

But you have no objection for the Captain to sacrifice herself? Seven demanded angrily.

He considered the question, knowing Seven of Nine's feelings for the Captain. If I can help it, she won't, he said carefully. But if she decides to stay behind, then to my mind, she has accepted the risks.

They entered a large room, full of pipes and consoles.

That is the main power system, Seven of Nine declared, pointing at a large panel in the far wall. Seven drones were working at the console on one side, two more were testing pipes and trunking on the other.

Well I won't make much of a dent in that with plastic, the Colonel breathed. Besides the locals might notice. Where are the power leads?

They run from all sides, the ones for propulsion exit from overhead. Seven of Nine pointed at a series of heavy pipes that ran a full fourteen feet above their heads.

I like that, the Colonel enthused. We will have all the time in the world up there. Come on! He slung his rifle over his neck and moved to a wall covered in trunking and nodes then started to climb. Reaching down to help Seven of Nine if she needed the assistance.

She proved more nimble than he expected and actually overtook him. He caught up with her again as she sat astride a thick pipe examining the readings on her tricorder.

This one! She insisted. The vessel will be without weapons and propulsion. It will take at least one hour to repair.

He grinned and kissed her. I've told you how wonderful you are? he asked, pulling his pack from his back and pulling two packages from the top.

she agreed calmly, breaking the packs up and helping him mould the contents around the pipe. The sentiment is irrelevant, but acceptable.

Right we have about fifteen minutes to find somewhere to hide before this lot goes pop, the Colonel sighed when they finished. Then you had better find the Captain and give her this? He handed her a small device.

A Hansen Bio-damper? The Borg are aware of the technology, they will adapt to discover it. Why did you have one? Seven demanded after a quick examination.

I didn't, the Colonel protested. But I have read the ships logs, so I duplicated some. They are better than nothing and you are more than able to modify it to make it difficult to find. He smiled at her encouragingly. I have one for you and me as well.

  


You can't go after the Captain! Tom Paris argued with Tuvok. The Colonel will blow his top if he finds out!

Vorick had succeeded in disabling the forcefield across their cell ten minutes previously and the Captain had hurried out to try and trace the Colonel and Seven of Nine. Now Tuvok had decided to follow the Captain's example.

Besides, what can you do to help her? Tom Paris added. You haven't anything for a weapon.

You are forgetting I am martial arts master, Tuvok reminded the Lieutenant. It is my decision.

A lot of good it did you when you tried them on the Colonel, Paris snapped, remembering the occasion on the holodeck when Tuvok had attempted to demonstrate the superiority of his martial arts to the Colonel. You got two good kicks in, then he nearly broke your neck! Face it Tuvok, you are being irrational! Not even the Colonel can destroy the Borg. All it is going to do is get three people killed or assimilated!

Lieutenant Paris. You will follow the Captain's orders, Tuvok commanded as a muffled thud resounded through the ship. The Colonel has attempted to disable the drive. You will leave now! 

Thus said he ran in the direction the Captain had taken.

Sadly Tom Paris activated the button on the remote device and transported the three remaining captives to the shuttle.

He found that the Colonel and Seven of Nine had made the craft as ready as possible for the flight back to Komos. Even leaving the sensors running so that it would decipher their location the moment the cube dropped from transwarp. The few seconds between the explosion and the small party of refugees appearing had been all the time the small ship had required to identify it's location and configure a course.

He examined it carefully. In the three hours they had been aboard the cube they had travelled a 150 light years. It was going to take the shuttle two months to cover that distance. It was going to be a long and cramped flight, he decided as the docking clamps released and the shuttle drifted into space. He pointed the ship in the right direction and fired the drive.

  


Captain Janeway hid herself in an alcove as soon as she heard the explosion. Certain that things were going to become more active now that damage had been detected. If they didn't know there were captives on the loose now then they never would. For a moment she regretted the impetuous decision to remain behind. It had been fired more by bravado then clever thinking. The cube must still be days away from the Unimatrix, even at Transwarp speeds. She doubted she would be able to remain concealed for long enough to help the Colonel there. But perhaps when the Borg found her, they would not look for another saboteur.

Her reflections were broken by the familiar voice of Seven of Nine.

Captain, you should attach this bio-dampener and follow me, Seven ordered dispassionately.

How did you find me? The Captain gasped in surprise slapping the small device to her arm as ordered.

The Colonel predicted you would remain behind and would attempt to follow us, Seven declared. We will leave now. Before I am detected and tracked. They will know that the damage is sabotage by now.

She turned to follow the corridor when Tuvok stumbled up.

Commander Tuvok. You were not expected, claimed Seven. Your presence is not logical.

Never the less, I am here, Tuvok panted.

I do not have a dampener for you. You will both follow me. Quickly!

They hurried after Seven of Nine as she marched rapidly down corridors and narrow passages until they entered a room barely three metres square and rather less than two tall.

Welcome to the Ritz, Captain! A calm voice greeted them. I apologise, but as you can see the bell boy has the day off as have the maids.

Peering in the gloom they could just make out the shape of the Colonel sat in the corner, his rifle on his knee covering the entrance.

Mrs Nine tells me that this is one of only two places on the ship where the sensors can be avoided. Can't say I'm surprised. It appears to be a rubbish skip, the Colonel continued. When the hull-a-ballooh has died off, perhaps we can find somewhere a little more comfortable.

From beside him he picked up his Cathor sabre and activated it. A dim light projected from the end allowing them to see more of their surrounds. It was as the Colonel had described, a rubbish tip. Parts of machinery and limbs littered the floor around them, making the already claustrophobic surrounds more so. There was also a faint smell.

What is the smell? the Captain asked eventually.

You don't want to know, the Colonel assured her. Suffice to say I removed the cause using my sword. There are things even I won't touch. 

He turned to Tuvok. Now Commander, would it be rude to ask why you are here and what you hope to achieve? You are the last person I expected to remain behind. The Captain. I can understand that. She is a stubborn bitch that can't resist the idea of solving a challenge. But you? I thought you had your head screwed on better.

You will need assistance, Tuvok opined stoutly.

Very probably, the Colonel admitted. But you have ruined your reputation as a thinker and we are going to break every Star Fleet protocol in the book. Still. If you are prepared to fight to my rules, you are very welcome. It is going to be a short but exciting ride.

Okay. We fight to your rules, the Captain agreed, cautiously sitting on the floor. You have something more in mind than running around Unimatrix 01 cutting heads off. What is it?

I intend to give the Collective the mother of reprogramming, he agreed. But we have to find a way to keep everybody busy, to give us the chance to get close enough to the central core. Mrs Nine, could you explain please?

Seven o f Nine nodded. The Collective is decentralised in that the main storage is located and duplicated over numerous Unimatix's. However the central control is handled by three vehniculum located in Unimatrix 01. The loss of one of these units would disrupt the Borg organisation for several months. Two would be catastrophic.

But the Vehniculum are almost indestructible. How are you intending to destroy it? The Captain demanded.

It is still a computer. I am very good at breaking computers, the Colonel assured her. Why do you think Mrs Nine can rebuild a replicator blindfolded and won't let me touch her Astro Metrics suite on Voyager?

Okay. You don't want to tell us. How do you want to keep them busy?

Again the Colonel looked to Seven of Nine to explain.

There is a design flaw in the alcove mechanics. It is possible to cause massed failures in the regeneration alcoves, Seven of Nine declared. There are two data inlet manifolds at the back of each bank of six alcoves. If the cables are exchanged, the alcove will fail and terminate the drones in regeneration.

That is a big flaw in perfection! the Captain whistled. If it is such a major error why haven't they corrected it?

The space behind the alcove is insufficient for maintenance drones to dismantle the connections. The Alcove would have to be dismantled to correct the error.

So you want us to wander around the Unimatrix reprogramming alcoves and murdering sleeping drones, while you and Seven break into the Vehniculum? The Captain challenged.

Broadly. Yes, Captain. Do not try and take on walking drones. You will lose, the Colonel opined.

With a degree of irony the Captain stood and came to a fair semblance of the Colonel's alert state and saluted. She proclaimed. When do we start, Sir?

The Colonel grinned at her and returned the compliment and salute. When we arrive will do. Mrs Nine says in about 48 hours.

From his seated position Tuvok could tell the difference in style and attitude and had a sudden flash of realisation as to what they meant. One with the snappy enthusiasm of somebody trying to make a point. The other with the cool casualness of somebody who had made their point a long time ago. He hoped the Captain would learn the difference quickly.

The Colonel turned to Tuvok. I have my rifle and its bayonet that you and the Captain may use, he said quietly. It isn't much, but it will give you some chance. There are six clips with thirty rounds each. I recommend you keep two rounds for emergencies. 

He handed the weapon to Tuvok, then addressed his small company. As we have some time to kill. I suggest we have a little to eat, then get as much rest as possible. Whether we survive this little escapade, or not, has already been written somewhere in one of those alternate universes Mr Tuvok has told me about. I intend to be in the Universe where we not only succeed, but are able to tell the Galaxy about it. I can only do that if we are all awake.

He allowed that to sink in for a few moments before opting for a lighter tone. Now I have standard Star Fleet Emergency Rations, or I can offer you a real treat, Tommies'. Nobody has ever gone hungry when they are available.

The Captain tried to enter in the spirit of his light hearted vein. I've never heard of them. What are they?

Very simple pancakes. Flour, water, a pinch of salt flavoured with a stock cube, the Colonel grinned. You can march for weeks on them, but definitely not horte-de-cuisine.

I think I'll stick with the ration packs, she decided with a worried grin. They sound terrible!

They are, he admitted. But they are welcome if you have nothing else.

Quietly they settled to wait.

  


It proved to be a nerve wracking 48 hours of waiting for everybody, except possibly the Colonel. Each in turn took turns to guard the entrance to their hideaway, squatting in the entrance and watching. The Colonel seemed to have made himself comfortable in the corner of the room, from there he talked and joked quietly to those that wished to come near. Silently held long and solitary vigils of guard duty. Offered comfort and slept. How he did it baffled the Captain, who found that sleep was almost impossible to achieve, because of the anticipation. Eventually she challenged him about it.

Experience, I suppose, he explained with a shrug. 

She demanded.

As far as I can see. When a Star Ship goes into battle, it doesn't usually last for long. You press a few buttons and either you win or you don't, there is no second round. A couple of days will sort out all but the most obstinate and there is no real waiting. In a land battle you have to learn to feel' when the next action will appear. A ground offensive can last months, sometimes even years. But the actual fighting only lasts an hour or so at a time before somebody backs down to recuperate. Then they might have another go, the lull can be minutes, hours, days or months. You have to make the most of that lull.

Aren't you afraid of what will happen? She challenged.

He slid his arm around Seven of Nine and pulled her protectively close. Only that I might fail Seven of Nine. I want her to be free of the worry that she might still be a target. 

And that is why you are going to try and destroy the Borg. Is it? She demanded.

I can't think of a more honourable one, he agreed. Why are you here, Captain? Don't give me the guff about service to Star Fleet and races of the Universe. Even you don't know enough of them to know if they will thank you, he challenged her, his voice hard now.

She swallowed, it was an impossible question to answer. She did not know herself why she had done it, only that it seemed right to try. It seemed like a good idea at the time, she excused.

He volunteered with a grin.

There are three Borg approaching! Tuvok whispered from the doorway, rescuing the Captain from further uncomfortable questions turned on herself.

The Colonel slid silently forward. He whispered.

Tuvok shook his head. They are carrying detection equipment.

Wait until they come in. We take them silently and quickly with blades. No shooting, the Colonel ordered, pulling Tuvok away from the door.

The three Borg stopped suddenly and turned back the way they came, leaving them peering after their rapidly receding backs.

If I was a suspicious man, the Colonel opined at last. I would say that they want us alive and onboard the Unimatrix. Happily, that suits me fine!

Why do you say that? Tuvok demanded quickly.

Because if they hadn't detected us, they wouldn't have turned so quickly. An extra few yards wouldn't have made any difference, even if they need to regenerate.

The ship has stopped, Seven of Nine suddenly announced. We have arrived.

Have they picked up your implants yet? The Colonel asked quietly.

She shook her head. I do not know.

Okay. We will risk it, he decided. Lets find somewhere you can transport us from.

  


They materialised in a corridor aboard the Unimatrix. In a fit of inspiration Seven of Nine had modified the coordinates of their beam down point by 20 Metres at the last moment, putting them in an adjoining corridor. It proved to be a good idea, it was discovered, there were a group of drones surrounding the original location. As one the posse of drones turned and starting to move in their direction as they realised the deception.

I think a rapid change of location is called for? The Colonel suggested mildly. Follow me.

He turned and lead them at double march up and down assorted corridors for a full twenty minutes before coming to a halt in another vacant corridor.

We are lost! The Captain panted.

We couldn't use the same point as an evacuation point anyhow. We haven't got anywhere to go, or anybody to pull us out, the Colonel pointed out mildly. So this is as good a start point as any. You have a tricorder, so you can find somewhere to start doing some damage. I have Mrs Nine, so I can find the place to really hurt them.

You mean you really have no idea of how to get us out of here? the Captain demanded incredulously. 

The Colonel considered her gravely. Captain Janeway. You have seen all the resources I have at my control. You, Commander Tuvok and Mrs Seven of Nine. Equipment wise, we have a rifle with 180 rounds, a service revolver, 10lbs of Thermite based plastic and several large knifes. We distinctly lack transport and troops. Against that we have the entire population of this establishment. How do you expect me to get us out of here?

So you are going to make it up as you go along? She demanded.

Best way, he agreed. How we escape will depend upon how well we do and how cooperative the queen is. Without something more positive I am not going to predetermine anything, it will go wrong. I am here to destroy the Unimatrix. That is the criteria for success.

You were given the opportunity to escape, Captain. You chose to stay, he reminded her. Now you are in my world. It is too late to decide you don't like the odds. I require you to perform your duty. To sabotage as many Borg alcoves as you can. Let me worry about escape when it is appropriate.

However. If you care to make your way in the general direction of the throne room, or whatever they call it, in say three hours. I will endeavour to get you home as a living hero. If it is any help I can offer what a captain once told me, when I was a rifleman? he added gently. For a soldier in battle, the only thing that matters is duty. His duty to himself, then the Queen of England, finally the Regiment. Take out one of the enemy and your duty for yourself is complete. Complete the task and your duty to the Queen is over. Win and survive the battle, the honour of the Regiment is satisfied. I have never failed in my duty.

No, it isn't a help, she sighed heavily. We will see you in three hours in the central complex.

She turned and crept away, with Tuvok following quietly behind her.

I'm sorry Tuvok. He doesn't think we will survive, she said contritely.

Tuvok almost shrugged. The mathematical probability of success states that we will fail in the Colonel's goal, he commented. However the Colonel rarely appears to be affected by probability.

That's true, the Captain responded reflectively. Where should we start?

  


The Colonel watched the Captain and Tuvok disappear before turning back to Seven of Nine.

Do you know where we are? he asked mildly, letting slip a little of his uncertainty. I assume this is a big place. If you don't then we could be searching for something you recognise for quite a while?

I can sense the location of the Vehniculum, Seven of Nine asserted. A sizeable number of drones will be operating in and guarding its location.

Can we find a way in that they can't guard?

Uncertain. I believe they may be able to triangulate our position using my implants. You would however be safer operating alone.

That is not an option, the Colonel snapped. It is because of you I am here. I am not giving you up. Besides if they could track you we would be upto our ears in drones by now. So lead on.

  


Captain Janeway and Tuvok roamed the corridors in silence for a full fifteen minutes until they came upon what looked like a good starting point. Two long rows of alcoves located back to back leaving a narrow opening between them.

This will do nicely. Tuvok watch for interruptions, the Captain was almost gleeful in the anticipation of the carnage and dived into the opening like a terrier after a rat. It was pay back time for nearly five years of running and hiding everytime Voyager detected a Borg vessel. Even better, she found that the cables Seven of Nine had described were long enough to be swapped with the alcove behind. She set about the task with zeal, not only swapping the upper and lower connector as Seven of Nine had described, but sharing them between alcoves.

It was a task that Tuvok interrupted her from within a few minutes and barely halfway along the two ranks of sixty alcoves. he called quietly. You may wish to observe the effect your reprogramming' is having? The drones are not being deactivated as Seven of Nine has predicted.

The comment alarmed her enough to race back to where Tuvok was kneeling and peer over him.

The sight that met her could only be described as comical. As she had swapped the plugs, the drones had come alive and as one stepped smartly from their respective alcoves. After that things descended into bedlam. Some turned left, some right. But there was no coordination in their actions leading them to blindly march into each other. Some seemed to be almost dancing in a close tango as they tried to pass each other, each shuffling left and right in unison as they attempted to get past. Others simply stood still in the centre of the walkway when they met, seemingly challenging the other to work around them. Others were attacking each other, repeatedly plunging assimilation leads into each other, except nothing else seemed to be happening.

If that isn't chaos at work. I don't know what is, the Captain suggested. That must be causing somebody a headache! Just think what they are reporting to the Collective! It could be better than deactivation. Let's get the rest replugged and start on another bank!

She turned back to her task with even more enthusiasm than before, taking Tuvok with her.

  


Seven of Nine stopped suddenly, cocking her head to one side as if listening to something almost inaudible. A puzzled frown passed across her face before she straightened up again.

I believe the Captain is being adaptable, she explained to the patiently waiting Colonel. There is some confusion present in the Collective. A number of drones are reporting obstacles in their path. Additional drones are being despatched to clear the obstacles. The level of disorder suggests the Collective may not be tracking our movements as closely as before.

Well there is some good news! I hope the Captain remembers to leave herself a gap to move on in, the Colonel commented mildly. Have you worked out where we are?

A small smile lit her face. We are above the Vehniculum room, she announced with some pride. You asked for a method by which we may enter unobserved. I believe there may be an access port on this level.

You are a genius, he declared, giving her a quick kiss. 

She pointed to a column that rose through the deck and disappeared above. That is a data transmission conduit. I can remove sufficient panels to give us access. However it is unlikely that we will have more than ten minutes before drones appear to repair the damage.

Carry on. I'll keep the interested at bay, the Colonel agreed. Once in we will find another way out.

Have you thought that you might find an answer to our question here? The Colonel asked quietly as Seven of Nine set to work removing the control panels.

Seven of Nine paused in her struggle to look at him with raised eyebrow. Which question? She demanded.

The question that has had you locked in a Science Lab for a fortnight, he responded. The one that had you crying on my shoulder because you can't find a satisfactory answer. Whether we can safely have a baby!

Borg do not have children, she said stiffly. And we have other priorities.

There is no harm in asking the question, he suggested. You will never be able to ask again and this is the centre of all Borg wisdom!

she agreed returning to the panel again.

Five minutes later there was a clatter from the back of the column as Seven removed the last of the panels and allowed it to drop to the floor. It sounded like a thunder clap in the eerily silent corridor.

The panel has been removed. We should vacate this location at once, she decreed.

The Colonel examined the gap she had created and the shaft she was intending them to descend carefully. It was going to be a close fit for him, less so for the slimmer frame of Seven of Nine and he would have to take the risk of simply dropping his pack down the shaft. Nor was there any form of ladder to make the descent easier. It was however home for several thick cables.

It will do, provided we can get the bottom open, he agreed. I think, ladies first. In you get. Quickly he scooped Seven of Nine up into his arms and offered her feet first to the opening.

I'll give you a few moments start, he whispered, pecking her on the cheek. I think you can use the cables to stop yourself falling. I'm just going to make things a little more difficult to repair.

Seven nodded and allowed herself to slip into the aperture, the Colonel supporting her under until she took a firm grip of the cables and started to lower herself carefully into the dark confines.

The Colonel took quickly scanned the area, and tested a pipe by touch. Feeling it vibrate slightly in his hand he guessed it was for something essential, hopefully power. Working quickly, he moulded a few ounces of his precious explosives to it. Next he ran a length of cotton from a second pipe across the corridor. From a pocket he took a small electric detonator and unscrewed that, carefully laying the cotton across the contacts, then closing it again before pushing it into the explosive and triggering the firing pin. With a little luck the cotton was still holding the contacts apart. The detonator would be triggered by a passing Borg and a little under five minutes later they would have another emergency repair to make and several terminated drones. Otherwise there would still be another repair.

Satisfied his booby trap was as well laid as possible he followed Seven of Nine into the shaft, dragging his pack after him.

He found Seven of Nine about twenty feet down, struggling with the back of another access panel.

The panel is stuck, she complained feeling his legs slide past her face. I will require your assistance to percussively dislocate it.

Kick it out? He sought the clarification.

In that case, can you climb up past me and take the pack? He asked. Its balanced on my head. If I start swinging around I'll drop it.

I will have to get you in a tight place like this again! he teased as Seven of Nine started to squeeze past him. It is very pleasant!

It is also cramped and difficult to move, she pointed out, finally coming face to face.

In the dim light she saw him smile. I know. It makes it difficult for you to escape!

It was you that tried to escape, she grunted, sliding up again. I have the pack. You may commence adjustment.

It took six solid kicks from the Colonels heavy boots to dislodge the panel. As soon as it clattered to the floor he swung through and rolled to a stop, looking for any threat. The room was clear of danger. Satisfied he stood and turned in time to see Seven of Nines legs swing through the hole he himself had come from a few moments earlier. Quickly he caught her and helped her through, then caught the pack as it slid after her.

The Vehniculum are over here, she announced immediately, marching towards a console in the centre of the room and activating a control.

Silently a panel slid open in a dais infront of the console, revealing three tube like objects three feet long and one in diameter. The Colonel approached them in something akin to awe.

Those control the thoughts of how many drones? He whispered, as he watched the centre portions of the tubes pulse in shades of purple.

150 billion, Seven of Nine said, stepping up to join him. However we cannot turn them off. Their internal power will keep them operational for upto three decades. Long enough for them to be recovered if disaster were to befall the Unimatrix.

And I don't suppose I could simply drop them on the floor either. They look as if they could survive a long drop.

So we need to be inventive?

You are correct, Seven agreed again.

None. In addition if I am caught any attempt of sabotage you attempt will be discovered, Seven of Nine pointed out unhelpfully.

The Colonel inspected the Vehniculum more closely. These tubes attached to the ends, are they the power couplings? he asked, thoughtfully.

They are not connected to the power system directly, Seven advised. They are powered by the metalic induction tubes beside. The tubes act as aerials for signals to and from drones.

And they are tubes are they? he asked, searching in his pack.

Seven agreed cautiously. What is your intention?

You said you did not want to know, he chided gently, finding what he was after and looking up.

She recognised the box he had pulled out. It was the one that housed the Cathor crystals.

You are intending to put the crystals in the tubes, she challenged. They will be discovered and you will have allowed the most powerful weapon in the Universe to fall into the hands of the Borg!

But not before it is to late. If we can stay out of their hands long enough, the Colonel offered. Just think of all those billions of mindless thoughts passing through. I would say it would be ideal for the crystals to do what the are supposed to do, wouldn't you?

Seven watched him pull the cables from the units and drop a crystal into each before jamming them back in place again. The last he dropped into his pocket, before kicking the case under a console.

A distant thud reached them, dust and smoke emerged from the entry they had used and the lights dimmed momentarily.

Oh dear! I think the Borg have arrived to fix the damage. I think we had better leave. Are there Borg behind the door? The Colonel asked.

Seven of Nine moved to check the door as instructed, listening carefully before opening it. The corridor was clear. It puzzled her. In her experience the corridors around the Vehniculum were normally full of Borg.

So where are they? The Colonel echoed her own uncertainties as he slid his arm around her waist.

The touch made her jump and he held her closer.

Why do I get the feeling that your ex-monarch is playing games with us?

I do not know, Seven of Nine admitted. This corridor has fourteen major distribution nodes. There should be at least sixty drones to maintain them.

Are what we just fed the real Vehniculum? the Colonel mused. Not mock ups?

Seven of Nine declared.

Are you sure? Could they have moved them to some other location and just using the old location for a trap? The Colonel persisted.

They were real! Seven protested. The Vehniculum form the centre of the Borg Collective. To move them would require the building of a new central Unimatrix!

The Colonel thought for a moment. We are wandering around in a damned big rat trap. Can you use one of those terminals to see how the Captain is doing?

Seven of Nine nodded uncertainly.

Good. Then we can go and find somewhere the Borg don't expect us to go and before they come and collect us.

  


Captain Janeway and Commander Tuvok, in their own estimation, were doing exceptionally well. In the two hours since they had begun their destructive trail they had re-attached the leads of some sixty alcoves, affecting more than three hundred drones. Added to the growing throng there were an even larger number of drones that had appeared to repair the damaged alcoves.

They stopped for a few moments to take in the carnage that they had wrought so far.

Another bank and we had better try and get to the central complex, the Captain said. If the Colonel hasn't done what he set out to do by now, then he isn't going to.

Tuvok nodded. Agreed, Captain. There is a clear path to the bank four rows down. If the alley is not blocked we will be able to circumnavigate the throng, he suggested. Of the two, he had been attempting to keep track of their progress and avoid being blocked in by their own sabotage.

Quickly he led the Captain to another bank of back to back alcoves and they set to work.

They were half way down before they realised that things were different this time.

Feeling uneasy Tuvok looked around as he replugged a set of leads and spotted a Borg enter the end of the narrow corridor they were in. This one did not appear to be as confused as the others.

A glance in the opposite direction showed another had entered at the opposite end.

Captain. We have been discovered, Tuvok declared quietly, breaking off what he was doing to bring up the Colonels rifle.

His thumb sort and found the safety catch and slipped it off, aimed and fired. He had never fired the weapon before and was surprised by the recoil. He could feel the Colonels palpable disapproval for the way the weapon jerked. However at a range of ten metres he could not miss and he saw the impact of the small bullet in the Borgs chest, knocking it backwards. It's place was taken by another. He tried shooting the one at the other end.

This time nothing appeared to take its place.

Come on! Quickly! The Captain hissed. Before they block it again!

They ran, bursting out the end, skidding to a halt in the main corridor, turned and ran on again. Rounding a bend they ran into a party of thirty Borg drones. There was no time to resist. Tuvok drove the bayonet affixed to the end of his weapon into a drone, struggled to tear it out again and was thrown into a console, stunning him. The Captain was gripped firmly between two others.

She cried as she saw a drone lean forward over him.

We are the Borg. Your consciousness will be added to the Collective. Resistance is futile!

She heard herself scream as she struggled in a desperate attempt at defiance. It was the last thing she remembered.

  


The Captain has been caught, Seven of Nine announced after a few minutes at one of the consoles.

The Colonel asked quickly.

Seven of Nine shook her head. She was rendered unconscious. Tuvok was injured in the struggle. They are both being taken to the central control. I do not know why!

Because they want us as well, the Colonel grinned. 

She looked at him quizzically.

It's the only thing that makes sense so far, he assured her. They know we are here. But don't know where we are. I think you are going to receive a steady stream of threats as to what the Captain and Commander Tuvok are going to suffer if you don't surrender.

The Borg do not threaten, Seven of Nine observed in a worried voice. We should surrender ourselves!

Do that and we will all be Borg in an hour. They daren't do anything until they are sure they have recovered all of us. Otherwise we might do something rash and the Captain has proved that we can do that. Remember that! The Colonel insisted.

he continued. Where can we do some severe damage? How about the main power plant. I assume they use anti-matter?

Reluctantly Seven of Nine led him down more corridors.

  


Almost reluctantly Captain Janeway regained consciousness from the stunning blow that had laid her out. Not daring to move for a moment, she carried out a mental check to identify who she was. The fact that she was wondering who she was seemed to signify that she had not been assimilated yet, though there was little comfort in the realisation. It meant she could also still feel the bruise on her scalp where she had made violent contact with a control panel.

The terrible crick in the neck signified she was also upright. That was not comforting either. Nor was the seeming silence that surrounded her.

Finally she could stand the suspense no longer and opened her eyes to find she was standing in a Borg alcove. Straps around her chest and waist held her upright and effectively pinned her arms to her sides.

So far the only good news was that the alcove was not active. That prompted her to look around a little more.

She found Tuvok almost immediately. He was trapped in a similar fashion in a second booth next to her. Beyond him there were another two alcoves, both empty. She allowed herself the hope that they had been prepared for the Colonel and Seven of Nine and that they had not been caught yet. Then wondered how long she had been unconscious and whether they had succeeded in their attempt at sabotage yet. Their success seemed to be their only chance of survival now. Certainly with the Colonel in the mood he was in she could not see him even considering escape until he had carried out what he intended.

The Captain tried to make out more details further afield. A task hindered by the classic Borg subdued green lighting. They were in a large room, she could tell that and the walls were littered with Borg consoles. The alcoves were not against the wall, but were not in the centre either. That honour fell to a circular dais with a single stalactite like structure suspended over it and ending about two metres from the floor. Dimly she could see small indicator lights running around the suspended structure. A vague memory suggested she had been here before, it was the Borg queens lair.

As if on cue, the floor infront of the booth opened and a torso arose. Two smaller apertures also appeared and what looked like legs and arms appeared. As the bemused Captain watched the two sets of limbs were brought into contact with the torso and locked into position.

Seven had described this operation to the Captain from her short stay on the Unimatrix and the reasons for it; to unsettle those that entered and allow the Borg queen to take on an appearance that those present may recognise. It did not mean that the Captain was any less impressed.

Finally satisfied that the body was suitably assembled an arm appeared from above bearing the Queens head, shoulders and spinal cord. This was lowered towards the waiting body and threaded through the top, small clamps gripping it into position. The overhead arm disappeared as silently as it had arrived and the Queens eye's snapped open.

Still in silence the Queen twisted her head left and right, then rolled it around her neck as if it was stiff, before exercising her newly regained shoulders, rolling them luxuriously.

Bored up with the small display of aerobics, the Captain cleared her throat. "Very impressive," she declared. "Can you bend forward and touch your toes as well?"

"Can you, Captain Janeway?" The Queen demanded. "There is little need to do such things as a drone."

"But I'm not a drone yet," the Captain pointed out mildly. "Are you saving us for something special?"

The Queen ignored the question, simply moved slowly and gracefully towards her.

"Your attempt at sabotage was pointless, Captain," she declared, gripping the Captains jaw and forcing her to look into her eyes. "The loss of three hundred drones is of no consequence. Seven of Nine's attempt at sabotaging the vehniculum is similarly pointless. Our technology has moved on since we were reliant upon such crude devices for connecting drones from the Unimatrix."

Despite herself, the Captains face displayed her shock and horror at the suggestion. Their mission was destined to fail.

"I see that the meaning is not lost upon you," the Queen sneered. "It will not be lost upon Seven of Nine either. Nor will the loss of efficiency that Seven of Nine has displayed since she has tried to become human."

There was something wrong in what the Queen was saying, the Captain realised. She had not mentioned the Colonel!

It was a grain of hope that was dashed just as quickly.

"You are thinking of the primitive that is with Seven of Nine?" The Queen suggested. "He lacks the intelligence to severely damage the Collective. He will make an excellent tactical drone. You were foolish to place so much trust in somebody that believed that he could destroy the collective. But as he means so much to you and Seven of Nine I will delay your assimilation so that you may watch him being assimilated first."

The Captain bit her tongue so as not to blurt out what she was thinking. The Queen was making a major mistake in underestimating the Colonel. If he realised that the vehniculum were now redundant he would find another target just as quickly.

The Queen mistook the Captains open eyed look as more horror and revulsion and smiled. "I am still considering how you will best serve me," she confided. "Seven of Nine is no longer suitable for a tertiary adjunct, perhaps you may take her place?"

  


"The main power complex is in the next corridor," Seven of Nine said quietly. 

For twenty minutes she had led the Colonel down unidentifiable corridors and past countless drones, all seemingly going about their own business. It was making the Colonel increasingly nervous. 

He knew that Borg did as they were instructed, but even so he did not like the way they were being ignored.

"There are twenty tactical drones outside," Seven added quietly, peering around the corner.

He almost grinned in relief. "At last! At least they are doing something about guarding delicate spots."

"Is there another way in that we could use? Like in the Vehniculum room?"

She shook her head. "All conduits into this department large enough for us to climb through carry plasma."

Idly the Colonel peered into the corridor. "I could take them out," he mused. "But that may prove counterproductive. We'll be upto our ears in them before we work out what to do."

Seven was not listening to him, but to her inner ear. "They are after me," she whispered. "They do not believe you can carry out your mission without my direction. I can hear the Queen, she has made a tactical error. If I surrender they will escort me to the central complex. It will give you time to place your explosives."

The Colonel grasped her arm firmly. "I told you she would and I'm not letting you go! Listen to me. You know how this lot works better than I do. I need you to tell me where to slap what we have, to do most damage."

Seven of Nine shook her arm free. "Your mission is to destroy the collective. If we fail we will die for no purpose," she hissed. 

She slammed him against the wall and kissed him hard. "I love you! But I must surrender to allow you to complete your mission. Then you can rescue the others. I will remain if necessary."

With that she rounded the corner and marched towards the waiting drones.

"Seven, No!" The Colonel hissed in despair reaching after her. 

She caught him and pushed him away, then boldly marched towards the waiting drones. She was by no means certain that she would not be assimilated, if that was the case, she doubted if the Colonel would be able to respond quickly enough to save her, but this had to be done.

"My designation is Seven of Nine Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero One. I am Borg. You will take me to the Command Centre," She announced coldly to the group.

As one the group turned to greet her. We are the Borg. Your distinctiveness will be added to the Collective. Your assimilation will add to your perfection. Resistance is futile.

Your declaration is unnecessary and inefficient, Seven of Nine argued. You will escort me to the Command Complex. Comply!

She turned and started to march away from them and they followed her, hurrying to overtake her.

Despite himself the Colonel smiled at the sight of Seven leading a the small force of tactical drones. She had effectively removed all the guards from outside the central power generator and there was going to be enough confusion caused by the way she had ordered the drones for him to slip inside.

Tucked away in the space beside the alcove he blew her a kiss as she led her contingent past. She saw it and blushed appreciably. She hid it by trying to march faster than the Borg would allow.

Satisfied they had all passed him by, he slipped from his hiding place and approached the opening to the power room and in the door. Again all the drones seemed intent upon their small duties and ignored him, but he preferred not to risk them seeing him and chose to shin up the stout cables and pipes that ran up the walls and seemed to link the boxy control panels and machines. Safe on this new perch he looked around him. Most of the drones efforts seemed to be concentrated upon a box in the centre of the room. At over forty feet in diameter and twenty tall it dominated the room, the level of attention it was receiving suggested that it might be his target. From there he looked for ways of reaching it. It seemed to be supplied by three broad tubes that fed it from overhead and fanned out in three directions. The nearest was less than twenty yards from him, he moved to investigate it, crawling silently along the top of the console.

The tube was a conduit and passed less than five feet above where he was kneeling. Touching it proved that it was warm and hummed. It prompted him to test it with a steel knife. It clinked to the pipe. A magnetic field was operating. The pipe must be one of the main plasma conduits he reasoned idly.

Quietly he climbed upon the pipe and started to slide forward towards the generator. 

The result when he reached the power unit were better than he had hoped for. The shrouds around the generator were not continued over the top. It meant that when he slid down the pipe he was physically standing upon the generator and hidden from the drones that were milling around. Quickly he examined how the pipework was attached to the generator. There was no joint he could attack, It ended in three smaller pipes. One led directly into the generator the other two trailed off around it. Four steps took him to the second plasma conduit, it was terminated in the same way.

He sat down, leaning back against the pipes and tried to think of how Voyagers power plant was configured.

The core was cooled by two columns of neutrizine gas, he remembered. The gas was fed in at the bottom and collected at the top using numerous flexible pipes and all were fed by seperately controlled circuits. It would require the destruction of both radiators to destroy the core. Power output was achieved using two main outlet cables. Those were liquid cooled, he remembered a breach in one of the cooling circuits. The antimatter injection was done by the injector, fed by a magnetically shielded hard conduit. That suggested the pipe he had worked along was the antimatter feed. That seemed like a good point to attack the Borg power system, he could create an antimatter leak! The next problem was how to prevent the Borg containing it before it created major destruction. He felt in his pocket and withdrew a crystal, the red one. The largest of the quartet. The one that was claimed feeding the feelings of missed opportunity. It was also the one that had flared aboard Voyager and had almost killed Seven of Nine, when it had sensed the injection of antimatter. What would it do with a major leak he wondered.

That muse gave him the answer and he set to work, dividing his remaining explosives between the three inlets. Satisfied with his placement, he withdrew a handful of detonators from his pocket and placed them, carefully configuring several as booby traps as he did so. He stood and shined back up the pipe and worked his way back towards the wall. Halfway back he stopped and felt in his pocket for the crystal. This he taped carefully to the top of the tube and continued on his way.

Finally he dropped to the floor and slipped silently and unnoticed out of the room again. He chose a direction in the corridor and set off at a quick trot. The timers he had placed he had set for their maximum countdown- about forty-five minutes. He had to find his way to the Central Complex he had heard Seven of Nine demand she was taken, but he had to get as far as he could from the power complex first. If he was found there they would start their search there.

Using guess and best judgement he made his way back to the vehniculum room again. He allowed himself the few moments to regain the crystals he had pushed in the end of the tubes and the box he had used to house them.

From the box he pulled the lining and weighed it carefully. The lining he had made himself, using the crushed energy absorbing rock he had found, that adventure seemed a long time ago- almost in a different lifetime, he thought, before stuffing it into the tubes and sealing them again.

Carefully he pocketed the crystals and set off for the door again. Intent now on finding a guide.

Three corridors later he found a drone working on a control panel. 

Boldly he stepped up behind it and tapped it firmly upon the shoulder. Excuse me, old chap, he claimed. Could you direct me to the audience chamber? It is quite important.

The drone ignored him.

He tried again, spinning the drone around to ensure he would be taken notice of. This time the drone attempted to throw him off. It received a knife in the throat as reward.

Rude bugger! The Colonel muttered setting off again. 

He had no real idea as to where he was going, but he was not finding anything cooperative here.

  


Seven of Nine. You have failed in your attempt to sabotage this complex, the Queen greeted Seven of Nine with disdain, as she was marched before her, a drone holding each arm. You have become inefficient, flawed, as you would expect from an individual.

Seven of Nine regarded her back, showing the same level of disdain on her face. I am not an individual, she declared haughtily. I am Seven of Nine, Primary Adjunct to Unimatrix Samuels. We are efficient. It is the Borg that are inefficient. It required my surrender to allow you to capture me. Perhaps if you release Captain Janeway and Commander Tuvok I will explain how we will destroy the Borg?

The Queen laughed at her. Do you think sabotaging the Vehniculum will destroy us. You are so small in your concept of the Borg and how we can track your efforts. We do not need the Vehniculum. All you have done is bring the Cathor Crystals to us. You will see how we can use them to add to the Collective.

Captain Janeway, still captive in her alcove watched in bemusement. This was Seven of Nine at her best. Calmly and logically attempting to intimidate the Queen, as she had done with her numerous times, but she wondered how long she could keep it up. She saw the fleeting look of alarm cross Seven's face at the comment about the Vehniculum. But it did not deter her.

The crystals will destroy you as they destroyed their creators, Seven almost sneered in the rebuke.

The Borg Queen lost patience. Seven of Nine. You will take station in your alcove. It has been adapted for use. But I will not have you assimilated until you see the scale of your failure. Comply!

Seven turned slowly towards the alcove the Queen had indicated for her and almost sauntered towards it. So the Borg have also become small as well as inefficient, she sniped. You have become vengeful. The crystals have started their work to destroy the Collective.

She stepped up and turned around facing the queen, waiting for the rebuke.

It didn't come, the Queen merely turned and walked away.

A small victory to Seven of Nine, the Captain decided.

Where is the Colonel? Tuvok whispered to Seven.

I do not know, she admitted truthfully. I surrendered myself so that he could complete the mission. He did not trust the damage to the Vehniculum. He believed it was proving too easy.

It looks as if he was right, the Captain declared. I don't suppose you would care to deactivate these clamps while we are waiting for him to appear and there is nobody watching? I assume he will come for us?

He will come, Seven of Nine predicted confidently. However our premature release will lead to our instant assimilation. We must wait.

They waited, studiously ignoring drones as they passed them and worked upon the alcoves.

Eventually a new sound smote there ears. The sound of a marching song, sung as if its owner was trying to chivy those around him into a faster step. It stopped for a moment then started again, with the refrain of It's a long way to Tipperary.

They looked at each other. There was nobody else it could be, the Colonel, marching at his own pace. The Captain grinned at the others, at the pace he was singing the drones would be struggling to keep up with him. 

He appeared a few moments later, his mottled dark green battle dress giving him an indistinct shape in the subdued green lighting. More obvious were the twelve tactical drones that were trailing him. Strangely they had not taken his long sword from him.

A quick glance around the complex and he was marching purposefully towards Seven of Nine.

Don't you ever do that to me again! The Colonel declared sternly. If those daft beggars had decided to get stroppy I might not have had the time to deal with them.

It was necessary, Seven excused herself, stepping from the alcove. She rose on tip toes and gave her husband a kiss that made him blush.

Seven of Nine. You will return to your alcove. Comply! The queen rounded the corner of the alcove and faced the two of them.

It will not be necessary, Seven of Nine declared imperiously. You have failed. The Colonel has arrived under his volition. His sabotage has been completed.

Your attempts will be futile, the queen sneered. He is a primitive, the technology he is able to use will be of no use. You will be assimilated. The primitive will be destroyed.

Excuse me? The Colonel intercepted politely. But may I be permitted to put a word or two in? He had the distinct feeling that a cat-fight was going to occur, as both women struggled to be as rude as possible to each other.

The two women fell silent for a moment, allowing him to address Seven of Nine.

Could I ask you to introduce me to the Meccano Lady, Ma'am? He asked formally.

Seven of Nine glared at him. It is the Borg Queen.

The Colonel immediately came to attention before the queen, bringing the right knee high before slamming with a crash to the deck again, his right hand rising to his forehead, then bowed low before her.

Your Majesty! Lieutenant Colonel Alan Samuels of Her Majesties 60th Regiment of Rifles. At your service! He announced himself.

The Colonel's strange antics mesmerised the queen. She had seen almost every emotion from blind fear to violent rage from those that the Borg had assimilated. But one where her victim was cheerfully offering service was new, she did not have a clue how to deal with it.

Seeing her indecision the Colonel muttered to Seven of Nine. Free the Captain and Commander. Find a ship of some sort, then get out, before she recovers.

Seven of Nine nodded and silently stepped back to the alcoves.

He turned his attention back to the Queen. I owe you a great debt of thanks, Your Majesty. I understand that Miss Seven of Nine was one of your subjects. I must apologise that I neglected to ask your permission before requesting her hand in marriage, I hope you will not take too unkindly to that fact. I also apologise for her rudeness. I'm sure it was nothing to do with the upbringing she had here. Perhaps it is the time of the month for Women's' problems. I am fully aware of how they can affect young ladies, my first wife tended to become quite broody. 

He was speaking speaking loudly and quickly enough to keep the queen in an almost constant state of bemusement. Trying to give Seven of Nine the time she needed to release the captives.

If I may be permitted to say so, Your Majesty. But you are nothing like as ugly as Captain Janeway has described. The tubes out the back of your head are quite fetching. As such I feel I must offer you a gift.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the green Cathor crystal.

I do apologise. I haven't had the opportunity to set it in the way it deserves, he declared. But you will agree that it would look simply splendid on a black choker? Deftly he tucked it under one of the clamps holding her neck to her cybernetic body. It glimmered at them dully.

What is he doing, Seven? the Captain hissed as the restraining straps holding her eased.

Creating a diversion, Seven of Nine declared. I will attempt to transport us to a vessel in preparation for escape.

But he's just given her a Cathor Crystal!

He is being adaptable, Seven of Nine asserted uncomfortably, then hurried to a terminal.

Silently the Captain released Tuvok and helped him over to where Seven of Nine was working, never taking her eye's off the Colonel and his increasingly strange behaviour.

There is a scout vessel without a crew, Seven whispered. I may pilot the vessel. I shall arrange suitable transport.

The Captain whispered back. He might need help!

Now if you will permit me, Your Majesty? The Colonel continued remorselessly. I would like to make some observations on the performance of your people. It was really most distressing the way I had to terminate a dozen of them before they even effected to notice me. If they were my men I would have shot the lot by now. The level of their incompetence was really quite astounding, allowing strangers to wander around like they have been!

As it is, no harm has been done to my party, so I am prepared to offer terms for your surrender?

The final statement shook the queen from her reverie. You have failed, she stated simply.

Have I? The Colonel queried innocently.

He looked at his watch. By my reckoning we have about twenty minutes before we find out. I can wait that long. Can you, your Majesty?

After all. If my little bangs don't work, I can resort to more long winded methods. And your drones have failed to impress me on at least three occasions, his voice dropping several octaves and became more dangerous. I never thought I would ever commit a regicide. Failing to surrender would inevitably mean I would have the opportunity.

He grinned suddenly. Now my terms. You will allow Mrs Nine, Captain Janeway and Commander Tuvok to leave unmolested. In exchange I will tell you where I have booby trapped and give you assistance to disarm the ones I can reach in time.

I could assimilate all of you, then use your knowledge to disarm your devices, the queen claimed confidently.

The Colonel seemed to ponder the concept for a moment, then shook his head. Won't work, Your Majesty. By the time you have assimilated me it will be too late. Even if you did, with all that padding they won't get near them.

I can also jam the primitive devices, she tried, there was less conviction in her voice this time.

This time he grinned more openly. There you have me. I didn't think you can do that with chemical detonators? Certainly I have never found a method of doing so.

My drones are searching for them, she added, thoroughly uncomfortable now.

They may even find them, the Colonel admitted. Plastic smells of almonds by the way. But if they touch the detonators the wrong way it will all go up anyhow and we will find the answer as to whether I have succeeded, or not, that little bit quicker.

He glanced at his watch again, there was still ten minutes left. Perhaps while you are thinking, Your Majesty. You could allow me to be so forward as to ask a personal question? It is not for my benefit you understand, but Mrs Nine would never ask for herself.

She gazed at him blankly.

Mrs Nine would like to have a baby. Only we don't know if she can, because of the probes? He smiled weakly at her. I thought you, as the centre of Borg knowledge, might be able to offer some advice?

Any child produced is placed in a development cell until matured, she declared automatically. They cannot be assimilated until they are released.

Thank you, Your Majesty. I'm sure that will be a great relief to Mrs Nine, when I tell her.

He glanced at his watch again. I think the time for negotiations has expired, Your Majesty. I do not think your drones could guide me to where I have planted my infernal devices quickly enough to prevent them detonating. If you wish I will remain to see your destruction? But the others will leave now!

He turned to his three partners and nodded to them. He called. Seven, you must see the Captain and Commander safe. I will wait to ensure things go right.

The Captain held up her hand. We wait! I'm not leaving you alone Colonel, she decreed.

She received a slightly puzzled, but grateful, glance from Seven of Nine and a cold glare from the Colonel.

You have a ship to see to safety, Captain. You are under my orders, remember? He said.

I'm working to your rules, the Captain flashed back. I reserve the right to act independently if I believe it is necessary. I'm not in your army!

Silently the Colonel grinned and turned back to the queen. It seems as though we are both destined to fail, Your Majesty, he said quietly. I have failed in my secondary objective. The safety of the crew of the USS Voyager. We both go in disgrace.

You will fail! Assimilate them! The queen suddenly screamed.

In one blur of movement the sword appeared in the Colonel's hands and he was swinging it violently at the queen. Desperately she brought a hand up to deflect the powerful blow. It smashed through the metalic hand, but enough impetuous was lost to prevent it decapitating her head as he had planned. It simply gouged the neck as he withdrew the giant blade.

You are slow, she managed to taunt, before he lunged forward again. This time taking her in the chest and she staggered.

Colonel! Behind you! The Captain screamed, as six drones tried to take him from behind.

The Colonel ducked, tearing the blade from the queens chest and swinging desperately. The sword rent a huge gouge through the nearest Borg, sending it cannoning into the two beside it. It gave the Colonel the chance to roll away and leap to his feet again, ready for the next onslaught.

I wild glance around revealed the others of the party under attack, three Borg approaching him , another squad of a dozen or so entering the room and the Borg Queen on the deck, but still alert and directing the situation. A moments indecision hit him. Given the choice he would prefer to despatch the queen, but it did not look as if Tuvok was going to hold out under the concentrated attack without support.

Ayee! The Rifles! He screamed diving to the defence of the hard pressed Vulcan.

The first swing decapitated a drone, the back swing disarmed a second and he was barging through the middle of the cordon that had formed.

He heard Tuvok shout a warning and was pushed hard sending him stagger as Tuvok bundled into him in time to avoid the arm and assimilation lines from a drone. They caught Tuvok in the back. He stiffened and went pale before the Colonel's eyes as he regained his balance and charged again, now in a fighting frenzy.

Get us out of here! The Captain screamed at Seven of Nine. Even given the way the Colonel was now fighting it was only a matter of time before they were overcome, as more and more drones appeared.

A dampening field has been engaged. I am unable to complete the transport, Seven of Nine screamed back.

The Captain looked around and spotted the queen slowly regain her feet. 

I'll deal with it! She shouted and made her purposefully towards the queen. The kick she administered sent her reeling again. She was on her in an instant, screaming in frustration and rage, gouging for the queens eyes in a glorious cat fight. The queen clubbed at her with the severed arm, then grabbed at her hair with the other, pulling her sideways, before rolling on top and extending her assimilation lines, aiming for the Captains throat, the Captains own hands still seeking her face.

The queen stiffened suddenly, her mouth opening in a silent scream of rage, then slowly toppled off again. Quickly the Captain rolled and aimed a blow at her face, smashing her fist into it, then watched in detached fascination as the head rolled away. 

She looked up and saw a figure standing over her and instinctively lashed out with a foot. She caught it in the midriff and it doubled up. It was only then she realised it was Seven of Nine she had kicked.

She screamed in sudden remorse. Crawling to the winded woman and wrapping an arm around her. I'm sorry!

Seven of Nine flashed her a look of fury. The field will be down, she wheezed. Assist me!

Together they staggered to their feet and helped each other back to the console where the Colonel was still fighting hard. Deftly Seven hit a control and they dematerialised along with four drones as a rumble shuddered the very structure of the Unimatrix.

  


As they rematerialised again, Seven of Nine immediately staggered for another console and started to punch pads. There was a lurch.

The three drones screamed and collapsed into each other, before being despatched by the Colonel with swift stabs from his blade. He looked wildly around him, seeking more victims. There were none and his fury slowly subsided as he sank to his knees gasping for breath.

If there is a view screen on this thing, put it on! He demanded in between gasps. I've got to know if I've succeeded!

Seven of Nine worked another control and a panel over her console lit up, then sank still breathless beside her husband, sliding an arm around him.

In silence they watched as a plume of red fire erupted from the gangling boxy sections of the Unimatrix, then it seemed to implode upon itself. Their small ship caught in the implosion, rocked violently then plummeted towards where the Unimatrix had been. It had Seven of Nine diving for the control panel again, fighting with the controls to stop it plummeting after the Unimatrix as it disintegrated. Finally it settled again and she sank back down beside the Colonel again.

Well that is that, he said hollowly. You are safe to make your own way.

That is that, Seven agreed quietly. My way is with you.

The Captain glared at them, feeling the lack of emotion and jubilation was unjustified, but found she could find no words suitable. Instead she sank beside Tuvoks body and felt for a pulse.

He is still alive, she declared.

The Colonel crawled over to where she was kneeling, leaving Seven of Nine gazing blankly at the screen.

He won't be for long, Ma'am, the Colonel opined quietly, silently handing control of their destiny back to her by the change in address. He got a full dose of probes. Without the Collective to drive him he won't survive. I can try and inject him with mine? I can't guarantee a good result.

Try it, please! The Captain pleaded. It was only then that she realised there was an arm dangling from the Colonels neck. They got you as well?

Several times, Ma'am, he admitted. This one was particularly insistent.

He reached up and tore the offending limb from his neck and threw it away, leaving a bloody welt where the lines had penetrated his throat.

She left him to it as he divested himself of jacket and shirt, stretching his own decanting lead and placing it against Tuvoks neck.

She paced after Seven of Nine as she examined one of the fallen drones. Somebody you knew? she asked seeing her kneel and examine one in particular.

It was Papa, Seven of Nine said softly, tears brimming in her eyes.

The Captain gazed at the vacant face and reached an arm around Seven of Nines shoulders. 

I'm sorry, she said simply, pulling Seven of Nine closer, resting her head in her shoulder and feeling her give in to the emotions.

It was necessary? Seven sobbed.

Yes, it was.

Quietly they rocked each other in comfort until they were disturbed by the Colonel some fifteen minutes later.

The Captain asked quietly looking up.

Time will tell, the Colonel said quietly. 

He also knelt beside them and gently covered the fallen drone with his jacket before extracting Seven of Nine from the Captains arms, cuddling her close in his own.

It was Seven's father, the Captain whispered, indicating the fallen Borg, then crept away to allow them to comfort each other.

I didn't know. Forgive me? The Colonel whispered in Seven of Nines ear.

She clung to him desperately, pulling him tighter to herself. Fighting the new rush of emotion she could feel building.

Thank you, she pleaded eventually. Papa never wanted to be a drone!

The Colonel blinking away his own tears, slowly and silently collapsed, dragging Seven of Nine with him. She struggled for a moment, then finding no response struggled harder in alarm as she caught sight of his face. It had gone a pasty white. She knew what that meant. Borg probes were starting to gain control. In desperation she plunged her own lines into him, calling for the Captain as she did so.

What is it? The Captain demanded in alarm racing back.

The Colonel has been assimilated. He injected too many of his probes into Commander Tuvok, he has insufficient to combat the Borg probes, Seven of Nine announced coldly. I have injected some of mine, but he will need constant care, until he recovers. The ship has been programmed to retrace our route to Komos, but it will take a fortnight. It seems likely we will meet Voyager enroute. I will care for the Colonel.

Carefully Seven of Nine rose and dragged the Colonels body behind an alcove. There she settled herself beside him, cuddling upto him fiercely. The only thing she knew she had in the Universe. She was not going to let it go.

  


The Captain, still numb from the previous few days, spent three hours investigating the ship, exploring it top to bottom. She found eight more Borg bodies. They had died in great pain, she could tell that from the expressions on the normally expressionless faces. There was no external injury and she lacked a suitable tricorder to make a closer examination to find the cause, it left a mystery to be solved later. Instead she dragged them into a quiet alcove, then dragged the three that had been with them when they boarded into the same place. Their limited living space looked neater without bodies, she decided.

Finally she rounded the alcove that Seven of Nine had dragged the Colonel into and found that she had fallen to sleep, her legs and arms curled protectively around him, her head on his chest.

The sight deeply moved the Captain. Almost angrily she turned and walked away blinking tears away.

It was not until she settled herself into a corner that she realised why the tears had come so readily and unbidden.

After everything Seven of Nine had something to cling to, that responded to her, never turned away, bring her comfort. What did she have? The Captain of a Star Ship? She did not even have her own ship anymore. It was light years away. All she had were two men, both unconscious and might not recover and an ex-Borg who had only just discovered what love and friendship were. A single human aboard a stolen enemy ship that she could not control and might yet kill her. Who would grieve if that happened. The thought terrified her.

Seven of Nine's voice reached into her plummeting consciousness and kicked her awake with a start.

She answered looking up at the tall woman standing over her.

You have been emotional, Seven of Nine observed, showing the gulf that still existed in her comprehension of human frailties. Explain the reasons.

The Captain flashed an angry look at her. Yes, I was. What of it? She snapped defensively.

Seven of Nine, hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. She had never seen the Captain as distraught as this. Eventually she sat herself down in front of the Captain and attempted to lock her blue eyes upon the Captains soft brown ones.

I have learnt that explaining the reasons for emotions and confused thinking often lead to their understanding, Seven of Nine explained cautiously. 

Despite herself a weak smile broke on the Captains face. A Colonel opinion?

Seven of Nine nodded. In such matters he is often correct. It brings order to chaos and is therefore desirable, Seven of Nine observed stoically. You should attempt to follow the advice.

I am also a good listener and attempting to develop a selective memory, she added.

The Captain sighed deeply, Seven of Nine was doing a Colonel' on her, she was not entirely certain she liked the idea. If she perfected the art, there would be two of them aboard Voyager.

I was feeling sorry for myself and jealous. Jealous of you, the Captain admitted at last.

Seven of Nine raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing, still gazing steadily into the Captains eyes.

It forced the Captain to continue her confession. I suddenly realised the difference between us. It has nothing to do with humanity, understanding or being a Borg. It's that you have something you can hold and posses. All I have is a Star Ship and I could lose that at anytime. It's not mine!

I'm not expressing it right, am I? She asked suddenly.

They are your thoughts, Captain, Seven of Nine commented impassively. You will make sense of them. Continue.

The only thing I ever really wanted was to command a Star Ship. I had dalliances, but they were never like you and the Colonel. I was even engaged before I came away. But I wanted to command a Star Ship. Now I haven't even got that!

I've really screwed my life haven't I? The Captain asked in the end.

Seven of Nine shrugged non-commitally. You have followed the path you chose, she observed. Perhaps a better one has not presented itself?

The Captain grinned, leaned forward and hugged Seven of Nine. You couldn't have put that more diplomatically if you were the Colonel. Thank You! She declared. The truth is I have never looked for another path! She finished by kissing the stunned Seven of Nine on the cheek.

We had better see what we need to do to keep this ship flying. Perhaps you can give me lessons? The Captain continued, suddenly feeling a lot happier as new visions crossed her mind. How is it the Colonel describes it? Ship shape and Bristol fashion'?

A little uncertainly Seven of Nine nodded. The Captains change of mood puzzled her. She had simply been emulating the Colonel's approach to a difficult emotion. She had never believed it would work as quickly.

  


The Colonel awoke forty hours later. He stirred slowly, feeling around him. His hand found a fabric covered leg and explored upwards until it was stopped by a firm hand.

You are late, a familiar voice declared. The time is 05:40. We must work on attaining perfection to your internal chronometer.

Task master, he muttered, slowly opening his eye's and smiling up at Seven of Nine.

She presented him with a mug. The contents are cold, because you were late, she chastised. But otherwise to your specification.

He reached up and took the mug gratefully, swallowing the contents in one shot, then discarded it in favour of pulling Seven of Nine down towards him.

Good Morning! The Captains amused drawl interrupted him.

The Colonel blushed, almost crimson. Good morning, Ma'am. I did not realise you were there. Forgive me, Ma'am. I was saying Good Morning to my wife!

And that was all? she teased. Well you've missed the hard work, so I guess we can spare another five minutes. But first you can answer a question for me. Why did the original crew of this ship die so quickly?

He thought for a moment then responded. I taped the red crystal to an anti-matter feed in the power complex. I was hoping the flare, when I blew the injectors, would cause enough confusion to allow the reaction to get out of control, Ma'am. Perhaps that had an effect?

The Captain nodded. It figures, I suppose. I won't ask why you had the crystals, but what are you going to do with the other two, to keep them safe?

I'll find somewhere for them, Ma'am.

Good. Now I can see Seven wants to say good morning' to you. So I will have the formal debriefing at some other time, with that she turned and walked away leaving the two of them in each others arms.

  


  


   [1]: mailto:story@rgower.f9.co.uk



	6. A Trouble of Dwarves (new 17/7/01)

1-25 A Trouble of Dwarves 1-25 A Trouble of Dwarves 

_With Captain Janeway away saving the Universe from the Borg, Chakotay is left with the problem of saving Voyager and finds how much Voyager and her crew means to him._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The Colonel is my own. Story line by Matt Weed and myself._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail [story@rgower.plus.com][1]._

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start with the Colonel_

_This story is rated PG13_

_©R Gower 2001_

  


Chakotay was in a relaxed mood when he stepped upon the Bridge to take the Conn while they waited for the Captains return from Komos. 

"Anything to report?" He asked of the duty Officer cheerfully. "Anything from the Captain and the ball?"

It was a rare event that the Captain left the ship, even then she never seemed to let it slip far away, there was inevitably some communication to remind him of something she had forgotten to tell him before she left. It was not something that worried either of them. He had learnt that Voyager meant everything to the Captain and found it very difficult to let go.

"Nothing, but a report for the Captain from Seven of Nine, Commander," Ensign Abbott reported dutifully.

"I wasn't expecting anything from them for a couple of days," Chakotay remarked, unconcerned. Messages from Seven to the Captain were not in themselves unusual, if she wanted advice, though it was uncommon now. "What did she say?"

"I didn't decode it. But it was unusual. It was a burst transmission," the ensign admitted.

That was more alarming. Sub-Space communications were normally considered secure enough without resorting to data compression as well.

"Decode it quickly. There could be trouble," Chakotay commanded in trepidation and getting to his feet to pace in impatience until the ensign could supply the details.

"Seven advises that there are three Borg cubes enroute for Komos. Arrival estimated 21:00," she finally deciphered.

Now alarmed Chakotay checked the chronometer. "Less than three hours. Contact the Captain. Bring her back now!"

He thumbed his own communicator. "All stations Red Alert. Ensign Kim to the Bridge!" He paused for a moment then added "Dog Watch to the Bridge." He suspected he was going to need their inventiveness and he was down more than half of the prime Bridge crew.

"I can't raise the Captain, Sir!"

Chakotay could hear the alarm in her voice, it was mirroring his own concerns.

"Contact Seven of Nine and keep trying for the Captain," he demanded, as much to keep the ensign busy than real hope. The reason for Seven's use of a burst transmission was obvious now, she was trying to avoid her own detection. A reply from their transmission may well not be forthcoming.

Kim appeared from the Turbo lift, looking flushed. He was almost immediately followed by the Dog Watch. It allowed Chakotay something else to concentrate on.

"Harry, long range scans. Look for a transwarp conduit or Borg Vessels. Kala assist him and find the Captain," Chakotay ordered quickly. "Winston, take the Conn. Carver, take Tactical. I want the Captain and Seven of Nine."

Finished with issuing orders he collapsed into his chair to wait.

I've got the Colonel, Sir!" Carver reported. "Still trying to raise the Captain."

"Status report, Colonel?" Chakotay demanded quickly.

"We and our hosts will be over Komos in about two hours, Sir. I intend to switch hosts when they have finished. You can come and collect us then."

"Where are you?" Chakotay asked in surprise.

"Attached to the lead cube." 

Chakotay could almost see the Colonel's ghoulish grin.

"Can we keep this short. They haven't found us yet. I want it to stay that way," the Colonel prompted.

"We can't get hold of the Captain!" Chakotay blurted. "We can't even detect her!"

The Colonel was silent for a few minutes, then came back. "It figures. Your hosts aren't all they claim. Get out of there, Captain. And watch your backs. Seven of Nine and I will find Captain Janeway," he declared. "Ensign Carver, you play that tune again. I will break your neck! Out!"

"Get him back!" Chakotay shouted.

"Sorry, Sir. The Colonel has terminated the communication," Carver responded after a moment.

"I've found the conduit, Sir. Details passed to Conn. Still no trace of the Captain," Ensign Kala reported.

"Evasion course plotted and laid in," Ensign Winston reported immediately. "We will require 65 minutes to avoid detection."

"Gives us twenty-five minutes before we need to break orbit, Sir!" Carver reported. "Increasing scan rates to compensate."

Chakotay was not sure if the Dog Watches fabled predictive responses were helpful or not. He was grateful that they were predicting the correct responses and waiting for the go ahead to execute them. But it meant that he was left with little to do, except worry about Kathryn's fate.

"Keep scanning until the last minute," he demanded. 

He knew it was an unnecessary command, even as he said it. But he felt slightly better forgiving it, he decided, settling in his seat again.

"What was the tune you played to get the Colonel's attention?" He asked suddenly of Carver.

The ensign smiled broadly. "The British Grenadier, Sir. It irritates the Colonel immensely. Guaranteed to get a response."

He looked as if was going to say more and Chakotay waved him down. There was something else in what the Colonel had said that troubled him. What was it? 'Watch your back'. Surely he didn't mean the Borg, he was not likely to forget them now he knew of their presence.

"Have you found the Captain yet?" He demanded, putting his thoughts to one side for a moment to deal with the more pressing matter at hand.

"There is a self modulating dampening field around the Visitor Reception building," Kim complained. "Every time we find a way through it changes frequency! I can't keep up with it! But I'm almost certain the Captain is there. There appears to be a build up of Koman military in the area."

"Keep trying! See if they know where they are on Komos," Chakotay growled.

"We could trust the Colonel, Sir?" Carver commented.

"If we can't find her, what chance has he?" Chakotay exploded.

Chastised the Ensign fell quiet.

"I could take an away team and drag her back, Sir?" Ensign Kala volunteered.

Chakotay shot her a grateful look, but a sense of reality struck him. "How many away teams have you taken, Ensign?" He asked.

"One, Sir!" The ensign admitted.

"Not this time then. I may need you here," Chakotay decided.

"Chakotay to B'Elanna," he demanded of the intercom.

Her reply was instant. "B'Elanna."

"Prepare an Away Team from Security. Heavy weapons," he declared. "We are going to find the Captain."

"There are twenty vessels approaching," Carver warned. "They appear to be Kommodan vessels. They are powering weapons."

"Should that worry me, after their fighter attack?" Chakotay asked sourly.

The ensign nodded. "I think so, Sir. These mean business. They are packing heavy plasma weapons." 

"Perhaps they know about the Borg approach?" He added hopefully.

"Could they take on a cube?" Chakotay asked in surprise, with the evidence of Vesa to go by and what he had seen of Komos it seemed unlikely.

With a critical eye Carver examined the readings from his panel and weighed up the probabilities. "If they have somebody who knew what they are doing. Yes, Sir!" He was also sceptical about the military abilities of the Komons.

"I am receiving a message from Komos, Sir," he added a few moments later.

"Put it on," Chakotay agreed.

"Voyager, this is General Hallock!" The small frame of the General appeared upon the view screen, looking somewhat smarter than he had before

"This is Commander Chakotay. There are three Borg cubes approaching. We would like our crew back, General," Chakotay demanded quickly.

"I am aware of that fact," General Hallock informed him. "We have been expecting them for several days. If you surrender your vessel, the Borg may permit some of your crew to live. They have only expressed an interest in your Captain, the Borg female and the one you refer to as the Colonel. We will find them shortly."

Chakotay's mind raced at the statement, as its meaning sank in. "You mean you signalled the Borg?" He asked in desperation.

The General nodded. "We need to protect our race. We do not have the technology to take the Borg on directly. So we trade with them. We capture technologies they want and they leave us alone. You were particularly easy to trap," he sneered.

With a deft signal Chakotay waved the link shut. "Our chances against the Kommodan ships?" He demanded.

"We can't stand and fight, Sir!" Carver opined quickly.

Chakotay accepted the statement. "Winston,. Keep us out of range."

A new thought came to him. "What was the discrepancy between those arriving from Komos and those leaving?" He asked quickly.

"Fifty fewer left than boarded, Sir!" Carver declared after a check.

"Any reason for the discrepancy?"

"Commander Tuvok never found one," the ensign answered. "Every calibration check worked out. He put it down to another glitch in the new computer system and has marked it for Corporal Millers attention."

"Kim, establish a comms blackout over the whole ship. Carver, execute a full security sweep and head count. B'Elanna, take your security team to Engineering," Chakotay ordered quickly. "I think this may be what the Colonel was warning us about."

"The lead Kommodan ships are spreading into attack pattern," Carver warned. 

"Move us out of orbit, Winston. Avoidance pattern Gamma-Delta," Chakotay announced. "Weapons up."

"What about the Captain?" Kim demanded quickly.

"We are going to have to rely upon the Colonel to get the Captain," Chakotay accepted. "We have to deal with our current problems."

"Him and Seven will hack their way through the whole of Komos, if they have to," Carver commented with relish. "Serve them right too!"

Chakotay turned on him angrily. "How is the security scan and head count, ensign?"

"Two crewmen reported missing," he reported. "I'm having a deck by deck search for them. Security are taking position on all decks."

"The Komos vessels have opened fire," he added. "But the range is too long for their weapons to do serious damage."

"Deploying defensive pattern Alpha-Delta 3," Winston responded before Carver finished. "They are closing, Sir!"

For a few seconds they watched as the first Plasma salvo shot past the rapidly turning ship.

"Warp 3. Put some distance between us, but not so much that they stop following," Chakotay decided. "We'll pull their fleet away, it might give the Colonel slightly better odds. Keep track of those Borg ships. We might have to follow them."

Behind him three security guards came out of the lift and silently took station. 

"The Kommodans are following, Sir. And the Borg cubes have arrived," Carver advised.

"Any sign of the Colonel?" Chakotay asked in concern.

"I can't tell, Commander. But the Valorian ship is always difficult to spot," Kim reported. Then in more alarm. "One of the cubes has just jumped to Transwarp, a second is following the Komos fleet."

"Track the direction of the one leaving!" Chakotay almost screamed. "They must have the Captain. Winston, find a way to follow their course, then maximum warp!"

  


In Engineering, Lieutenant B'Elanna Paris, chased two security guards out of her way as she raced around trying to keep her engines running at peak efficiency. A sixth sense was telling her that there were going to be major calls upon Voyagers power system. 

The repeaters in Engineering were showing what Chakotay was trying to do, carefully work his way around the Komos Fleet so that the ship could follow the now disappeared cube. She suspected that things were not going to be as simple as that.

Above her a ventilation grill was silently removed and a small face appeared in the aperture. Apparently satisfied that it had not been noticed, the face withdrew to be replaced by a hand aiming a hand weapon. Carefully the weapon was aimed at the frenetic engineer and fired.

B'Elanna turned to pass on an order to one of her engineering team as she came up behind her. She opened her mouth to speak, in time for it to become a shriek of horror as the young engineering technician slumped in front of her. A few milliseconds later she was diving behind a console as more weapons fired.

"Engineering to Bridge!" She screamed, tearing for her phasor. "We are under attack!"

Peering over the console she saw one of the security team drop as he fired at the ceiling. She looked up and saw a small figure duck out of sight from the vent aperture. She fired at it, but another bolt struck the console beside her causing it to spark brightly, making her duck down again. Rolling to spot where she could identify where that shot came from she saw another open grill.

She kept rolling until she could tuck herself under a console and clear of the cross fire from the two open apertures. She heard several more small explosions as shots hit more consoles. She was not certain what they were shooting at, so she risked another peek over the top of her cover. 

They weren't random shots just to keep heads down, she realised. They were being deliberately aimed at consoles, attempting to disable them. She dived back again as she was spotted and tried to think.

  


B'Elanna's desperate call to the Bridge for help, held Chakotay stunned for a whole five seconds, before Winston's equally desperate cry. "Warp drive is down.!" Brought him to his senses.

"Carver, you were one of those that tried the Colonel's security training, take more security to Engineering. We need warp power back. How long before the Kommodan ships get here?" He demanded.

"Not more than twenty minutes," Kim responded quickly.

Carver leapt for the lift. In time for it to open to reveal three dwarves. Their first two shots took Carver and the security guard by the door. The three remaining security guards opened fire upon them, swinging around from their posts guarding the alternative entries. The three dwarves fell.

Kim braved the risk and dived across the Bridge to reach the tactical station. "Security reports that there are small groups of dwarves appearing all over the ship, Commander."

"Armoury?"

"Okay so far. But a party of dwarves are on that deck, Commander." The hatch for the Jefferies tube started to move. Immediately Kala fired at it with her phasor and it slammed shut again.

"They're in the Jefferies tube!" she shouted. "They can do real damage in there!"

Chakotay nodded and approached the hatch with caution. "Harry and Winston, do what you can to keep us out of their weapons. If we lose shields we are dead."

He crouched by the hatch and signalled Kala and a security guard to do the same.

"When I say, open the hatch as quickly as you can, but keep behind the door, it will protect you," he whispered to Kala.

She nodded her understanding and grasped the handles securely.

"Now!" Chakotay hissed.

She pulled the door open with a giant heave.

The first thing Chakotay saw was a dwarf immediately behind the door. He was shot by the guard. Around the edge of the door Kala saw a second dwarf fiddling with a junction box, she fired her phasor at him. She missed but it was enough to have him tumbling away from it.

Chakotay dived through the entrance, saw the Dwarf get to his feet and start to run. He fired and the Dwarf was running no more.

He pulled out again and gave the two young officers an encouraging smile, before giving instructions. "Follow the tube to the junction and take station. Fry anything that moves," he ordered the guard. "Kala, check the junctions. Make sure they haven't done any damage. Kim, lock the Turbo Lift. I don't want anymore of them getting here!"

He stalked back to his seat and collapsed into it, trying to decide upon the next move. He noticed that the duty ensign was examining Carver and the fallen guard, he had almost forgotten she was still there. "How are they?" he asked, quietly.

"Alive, Commander," she responded nervously.

"Beam them to sickbay," he instructed then added. "This is your first Bridge duty and close quarters combat isn't it?"

She nodded unhappily at him, a pleading look in her eyes.

For once he really wished he had the Colonel's knack of calming and encouraging people into amazing feats, the ensign was terrified and with good reason. Ensign Abott was a mouse. She never appeared anywhere, took her meals alone, rarely used the holodecks, was never involved in disciplinary reports. B'Elanna had described her as being afraid of her own shadow'. Chakotay felt a wave of compassion for the young woman. Her first bridge shift was proving to be a baptism of fire Ensign Llinos Abott, Airponics, isn't it?

She nodded weakly.

"Well it isn't always like this. I'm going to need your help," was all he could find to say.

She nodded and smiled weakly at him, staggering up to resume her station at ops.

Chakotay sank back in his chair, the Colonel's ability with people was not the only thing he needed, he realised. Not even in the Maqui had he been forced into such a close corner, with enemies running loose on his ship and a battle fleet bearing down on him.

Idly he thumbed the communicator. "B'Elanna, I'm trying to get relief to you, but there are dwarves all over the ship, getting there is difficult. I need warp power within the next ten minutes. Can you do it?" He demanded quietly.

"We're pinned down, and they are trying to disable the controls," B'Elanna's voice echoed up to him, in the background he could hear several small explosions confirming her declaration.

  


"Who else is here. Count off?" B'Elanna yelled from here hiding place. "Caerey?"

"Lieutenant." Joe Caerey's voice sounded from beside the Distribution Board. One by one the rest of the engineering team announced themselves, there were six left and one of the Security team she had brought down from the aborted rescue mission.

"How many points are they using?" She asked.

"The three vents, Lieutenant. I think there are four of them," Caerey called.

She thought for a moment. She had to regain warp drive, flush out their attackers and prevent them getting in again. Ground offensives were not her field of expertise and had only basic levels of training. She had however listened to the Colonels' stories with some interest.

"Saturate the vents with phasor fire," she shouted. "I've got to get warp power online."

Immediately she crawled from her hiding place and dived for another console as two laser bolts hit the deck beside her. More gratifying were the six pale phasor beams that lanced out from the deck at the source of fire. Taking courage from her teams rapid response she ran for the warp control console. A yellow beam chased her as she dived headlong under the console. She was stopped with a crash as she hit the console mounting head first and lay there stunned.

Lieutenant Caerey shouted in alarm, springing up and racing towards the fallen B'Elanna Paris, firing blindly at where the shot that had forced her down had come from.

A small figure rose from behind the warp core and fired at the fast moving lieutenant, from less than ten feet. Only the violent shudder from the ship that forced them both to stagger saved Caerey from being vaporised. He missed. Caerey still with impetuous leapt at him, knocking him to the ground and started to pound at him with his fists until the dwarf fell silent. He staggered up again and dived for B'Elanna's recumbent position.

She was just coming around as he arrived. "He's got a phasor rifle!" She declared groggily.

Dealt with, Caerey promised in a whisper. Now lay still. I'll get the Warp drive working.

Carefully he stood and tried to ignore the flash of laser and phasor fire as he started work.

Again the ship rocked violently and a terminal behind him exploded in a shower of sparks, forcing him to duck. A crewman screamed as a terminal was dislodged onto her as she cowered beneath it. There was another scream, followed by a sickening thud as a dwarf slipped from his hiding place and fell the twenty feet to the deck.

With an effort Caerey reached to the far end of the console and thumped a pad. Then sharply withdrew his hand again with a scream of pain as a laser beam singed past his arm, causing the fabric to wither and melt to the skin. He sank to the ground dizzy from the excruciating burning sensation from the smouldering uniform.

With his teeth clenched, he hit the communicator. Engineering to Bridge. You have warp. Then he passed out, collapsing onto B'Elanna as she struggled to sit up.

B'Elanna screamed at him, shaking him hard. There was no response.

Roughly she pushed Caerey's body off from on top of her and crawled to where the fallen dwarf lay, snatched up the dropped phasor rifle, reset it to maximum fire power and aimed carefully at the vent above her.

A tentative hand appeared aiming at the control console that Caerey had been working at and she fired. The resultant explosion ripped a gaping hole in the vent system and brought the unfortunate attacker down with a large amount of metal panelling. B'Elanna sprang at him, screaming in white hot rage and brought the but of the rifle down hard on the feebly struggling dwarf.

Without stopping, she span, aimed at a second vent and fired again, there were no screams this time, but she was showered with shrapnel as another gaping rent was torn in the metal work.

She whirled again as the door to Engineering opened and a security guard appeared fleetingly. Catching sight of the enraged Klingon Engineer, he threw himself to the ground as another bolt leapt from the prow of the gun.

Seeing the Klingon Engineer descend into a fighting rage, Samantha Wildman bravely crept closer. Seeing B'Elanna aim at the security guard she stepped out from her hiding place. she called softly. They have all gone! You are shooting at friends. Please stop!

B'Elanna span around and fired at the Ensign before she could dive for cover.

A feeble beam appeared and made Samantha stagger for a moment, but she managed to remain standing.

Please, B'Elanna, stop! She pleaded again, ignoring the pain in her stomach.

B'Elanna stared unseeingly at her and tried the trigger again. This time nothing happened, even after repeated resetting. The rifle had been totally drained of energy.

Taking it as her chance Samantha Wildman came closer again and gripped the weapon and twisted it out of B'Elanna's hands. She whispered, placing an arm around B'Elanna's shoulders.

They shot Joe! B'Elanna whispered sullenly, in shock. They can't shoot Joe!

And you punished them, Samantha assured her. Now we need to do the repairs. I don't know what Joe Caerey did, but I'm sure it wasn't an approved fix and it can't hold for long. We need you!

Patiently Samantha held B'Elanna until the Klingon Rage subsided.

  


We are in range of their weapons, Commander, Kim called nervously. They are firing.

Chakotay called. He had been waiting for this. There had been no response from Engineering since he had pressed his need for warp power upon B'Elanna 15 minutes ago. He was also gambling upon the Kommodan vessels not wanting to cause excessive damage to Voyager, relying upon the saboteurs to disable the ship. Their long range bombardment was simply to keep them busy. He wanted them a lot closer before he revealed his own hand, to this end he had instructed Kim to take phasors offline to suggest they had been disarmed from the inside.

Working on it, Sir! Winston's voice was a model of calmness. He had picked up the weapons discharge on his sensors moments after Kim and was already rolling Voyager and hauling the ship around in a new direction.

They are firing again. Multiple discharges, Kim almost shouted this time, an almost complete opposite to the pilots.

Can't miss them all, Sir! Winston intoned, his hands still working the ships controls.

They are well in range, Commander? Kim suggested his nerves making his voice quiver.

When you can't miss with manual targeting, we will fire. Not before, Chakotay hissed as the ship rocked to the one salvo Winston had not been able to avoid.

Shields down 5%, called ensign Abott from ops, trying hard to emulate the seeming calmness of Chakotay and Winston. 

She knew her voice was shaking though. She had never thought her flippant volunteering to take her first bridge watch was going to turn out like this. She felt guilty for everything that was happening. If she had decoded Seven of Nine's message they might not have been in this position.

Chakotay also heard the quiver of fear in her voice and spared the time to offer what he hoped was a reassuring smile. You should have volunteered for the Dog Watch, he suggested, trying to be light-hearted. This is a picnic compared to what the Colonel puts them through, isn't it Ensign Winston?

Aye, Sir! Winston responded, slapping another pad to send Voyager skidding across space again as another plasma bolt sailed past a nacelle. A picnic where the jam has been spilt for the wasps.

Manual lock on lead ship, range 5000 kilometres! Kim cried in jubilation.

Chakotay sighed in relief. At that range the torpedoes would be devastating. He was about to give the command to fire when Lieutenant Caerey's voice broke in from Engineering. Warp Power!

It changed the situation totally.

Harry, reload the stern tubes with cluster torpedoes and a starburst probe. Bring Phasors up, lock onto as many ships as we can. When we are through fire the starburst and the cluster torpedoes, Chakotay demanded rapidly. Winston, spin us around to face the enemy as soon as Ensign Kim is ready. Take us into warp.

Kim reported twenty seconds later.

Winston announced immediately, ignoring the explosion of sparks emanating from the consoles behind as Voyager was struck by two more plasma bursts.

Shields down to 40%! Abott screamed over the noise, reminding them how close they were.

Fire as we bear! Chakotay relished the command as four torpedoes leapt from Voyagers forward tubes and swung for their targets. From the top array a beam lanced out and held the nearest ship for what seemed to be an eternity. As it subsided a second beam lanced from the lower array and held a second vessel. Four flashes showed the torpedoes had found their targets. Then the view slurred as the ship leapt into warp.

Starburst and clusters fired commander, Kim announced almost immediately.

Course laid, Winston responded immediately.

Three vessels have been disabled, Commander, Kim reported the details of their quick firing. The fourth has suffered severe damage to shields and drive.

Chakotay slumped in his seat in satisfaction.

Ensign Abott cleared her throat politely, trying to stop herself panting from excitement. Excuse me, Commander. What is a Starburst?

Kim spared the Commander having to explain. It's a probe the Captain had Tuvok develop, from an idea of the Colonel's. When it is detonated it throws out so much clutter it blinds sensors for at least fifteen seconds. If we change direction when it explodes we can be a long way away before people can see again. This was its first test. 

The cluster torpedoes will act as a mini minefield, Chakotay added reflectively. They might not do a lot of damage to the larger ships, but it might slow them down a little. Now we only have the Borg to deal with. Where is it?

They haven't changed direction. I don't think they have a lock on us yet, Commander, Kim declared.

Winston set course after that cube that left! Chakotay ordered in relief. I want a full damage, casualty and progress report on capturing the dwarves!

Five dead, twenty-three wounded. It is proving difficult to get to some of the wounded, Kim answered. The ship seems largely intact, a couple of relays have blown out. Reports suggest that there could be as many as two hundred dwarves aboard.

Impossible! They are counting twice. There is no-way they could hide that many! Chakotay snapped.

Excuse me, Sir! Winston said politely. The Colonel has often said he could hide a full company on Voyager. And the Komons are only half his size.

Chakotay turned to slap down the ensign, then remembered the arguments that he, Tuvok and the Captain had had with the Colonel over the poor sensor coverage in parts of the ship. He was proving correct. And he would make it look as though we were being attacked by a regiment, he sighed at last, relaxing in his seat.

The shields have just failed, Abott spoke up. I'm trying to reroute power, but they won't come up again! I think long range scans have been affected as well! There was panic in her voice again.

Engineering. Report? Chakotay demanded quickly.

Samantha Wildman answered him. We have three dead, Commander. Eight injured, including Lieutenant Paris, two seriously, including Lieutenant Caerey. He cross linked the Warp controls like a christmas tree before he was hurt. We're struggling to get that under control. The ventilation system down here is shot and we are rigging forcefields across every access into Engineering.

How badly hurt is B'Elanna? Chakotay asked in sudden concern. He needed the gifted engineer to be working.

Nothing serious, I think, Wildman replied. She is unconscious though. She went berserk, then passed out after blowing the Kommodan's out of the vents.

We are going to need her, Chakotay pointed out, rather sharper than he had intended.

I know, Commander!

Shields are down, can you fix them? 

I don't know, Commander. Just a moment, I'll run a trace on the circuitry.

Thirty seconds of impatient waiting later Samantha Wildman responded. I think there is a major distribution, node out of action Section 4 Deck 8, Commander. But we can't get to it! There are several Kommodans roaming the corridors outside Engineering. It is only the forcefields stopping them getting in.

Chakotay slapped the arms of his chair in frustration. Without shields and sensors Voyager was almost defenceless and blind. The Dwarf situation was going to have to be dealt with urgently, sensors would have to be dealt with immediately. Only he was not sure how he was going to get somebody from the severely depleted engineering out of engineering to fix the problems.

Winston, can you find your way to that magnetic anomaly the Colonel and Seven went to investigate? he asked thoughtfully. We'll hide in that until we've dealt with our problems.

Aye, Sir. Course plotted and laid in, Winston responded immediately.

You had it already plotted? Chakotay accused, almost amused.

It seemed like a likely destination, Sir. I've kept track of it.

The Colonel's training! Chakotay muttered under his breath.

I suppose you are going to give me an obvious solution to getting the sensors and shields on-line? Chakotay challenged.

Winston did not answer. Instead he looked over his shoulder at Ensign Abbott.

Chakotay followed his gaze and saw the ensign blush deeply.

he asked quietly.

I think I can fix the distribution node, Sir! She stammered in embarrassment.

Are you sure? Chakotay asked, keeping his voice quiet. He distinctly remembered B'Elanna wanting her out of Engineering. Your reports from engineering were never encouraging, he almost kicked himself at that comment, it was a low blow and he saw her blanch.

I'm a Mineralogist not an Engineer, Sir. I'm not as fast as the others, Sir, she protested plaintively. It wasn't because I couldn't do it, Sir!

I'm sorry ensign, Chakotay apologised. We'll do it. Together. 

He turned, all action again. Kim, get somebody from security to meet us at the turbo lift on Deck 8. If you secure the Jefferies Tube with a forcefield you will have Kala back.

  


Chakotay had the phasor rifle he had picked up from a fallen guard levelled and ready when the lift door opened on deck 8. He only just managed to prevent himself shooting the security officer that was crouched waiting for them when the door opened.

Where are they? Chakotay demanded quickly.

Carys and Dennard are trying to track two of them near section 13, Commander. But they can disappear into the ducts so easily. They could be anywhere, the guard admitted.

Let's get on with it, Chakotay decreed, leading the way with ensign Abbott keeping close behind him.

Reaching the damaged distribution node proved uneventful and ensign Abbott opened the hatch to the panel. The damage, I don't think it is too bad, Commander, she reported. Most of the links can be repaired. But a few will have to be replaced with something.

Do what you can, Chakotay tried to be encouraging as he in his turn glanced around nervously. He didn't like the ventilation grill almost opposite where he was squatting. Given the enemies seeming frequent use of the airducts, it seemed uncomfortably dangerous. Unconsciously he stepped up the power on the rifle.

Abott began carefully pulling links from the distribution node and painstakingly running a regenerator across each one, rebuilding the circuitry. She was desperately trying to concentrate upon her task. She admonished herself for volunteering for the task. Even for volunteering to take a comms watch after listening to and finally believing the Colonel about how easy it would be. Never again was she going to believe him, she decided, as she slipped a link into place. 

She fumbled the next one and dropped it and ducked to pick it up. At the same time a bright beam lanced out from the vent that had been causing Chakotay concern. She screamed in terror as the laser struck the wall just infront of where she had stood.

Chakotay responded instinctively, spinning and firing at the same time. The vent cover disappeared, but there was no attending scream and there was nothing behind it.

Cautiously he approached the new opening and peered in.

Abott screamed, desperately ripping her phasor from her belt. She fired down the corridor, then screamed again as a laser beam struck her.

Desperately Chakotay spun out of the vent, saw a movement and fired. He turned again to look the other way, nothing moved.

He called for the security guard that had been supposedly guarding the corridor.

There was no reply.

Carefully he crept towards Ensign Abbott. He called softly. She was deathly white from the shock, and the shoulder of her uniform was still offering a wisp of smoke.

She groaned, and he cradled her gently until she started to recover.

Are you alright? Can you finish? he asked gently.

My shoulder! It hurts so much! She squealed in pain, her brown eyes looking large under the tears. I killed somebody! I'm so sorry!

He was trying to kill you! Chakotay pointed out, at a loss for more comforting words. But we have to get the node working. Can you do it?

She did not look at him, but tried to stand. Chakotay ended up almost picking her up and leant her against the wall, so she could reach. She completed repairs to the last two links and would have collapsed again if Chakotay had not caught her.

Quickly he scooped her up in his arms and staggered for the lift, almost tripping over the body of Gurnard the Security Guard.

Chakotay did not need to look to tell what condition he was in. The blackened face said everything.

Computer. Emergency site to site transport. Two to Sick Bay! He demanded, hoping that the dwarves had not managed to hit the transport systems.

Thankfully he found himself rematerialising in Sick Bay, with the Doctor glaring at him.

Put her down there! The Doctor demanded, indicating a spot on the floor. I'm running out of space, he continued examining the ensigns shoulder carefully.

Second degree burns. I'll give her a cortesone injection until I can finish treatment, he declared.

Can't you do more? Chakotay pleaded. She saved my life and probably the ship as well!

The Doctor glared at him imperiously. I have twenty others in worse condition than Ensign Abott, he declared. I can give you a growth stimulator. If you would care to treat her yourself?

Give it here! Chakotay accepted heavily, almost snatching the device from the Doctors hand as it was offered. How about Carver?

the Doctor responded. But he will live.

Bridge to Commander! Kim's voice floated down to Chakotay.

We've picked up a second squadron of Komos ships, Commander. They are on an intercept course.

Will they intercept us before we reach the anomaly?

On the Bridge Kim looked questioningly at Winston at the con. He winked at him, already making amendments to their course and speed.

We have reworked our course to avoid them, Kim relayed quickly.

And the Borg?

No sign of them coming after us yet, Commander.

Keep track of them, Chakotay commanded. And send what security are available to Sick Bay. We need to deal with our dwarf problem.

Killing his link Chakotay leaned back to think, until security arrived.

  


The problem is that they keep disappearing into the ventilation system, Security Ensign Gardner complained, twenty minutes later when the security team arrived. It gives them almost total access to the ship with any number of routes to get there. We even tried erecting force fields across the ducts but they found a way around them! There are too many corners for us to go after them.

That's it, Ensign T'Pau agreed. If they are in the open, then they aren't a real threat.

Well there has to be some way of getting to them? Chakotay prompted.

When the Colonel ran those simulated hostage routines, he used tear gas grenades. We couldn't get out the room quick enough, and couldn't see for more than an hour afterwards, T'Pau offered. It would work in the ducts.

Do you have any? Chakotay asked quickly.

T'Pau shrugged. I dunno, Commander Tuvok, confiscated any he found afterwards. They are against Star Fleet regulations. But the Colonel may have hidden a few in the container he uses in Cargo Bay 2?

Go and get them, then take them to environmental. Gather up everybody who can carry a weapon, Chakotay decided. Call me on the Bridge when ready. We can introduce it from there. Find as many breather masks as you can find. We will need them.

You aren't proposing to gas them? The Doctor protested as the guards left. Chemical weapons are illegal!

Our people are dying Doctor, because we can't get at them! In a few hours we may have to fight some of their friends and I don't want to do that without our weapons on line, Chakotay snapped out impatiently, his voice becoming harsh. Have you a better way of getting them out?

The Doctor fell back into sulky silence.

Doctor what have you got that we can use to put them to sleep after they have come out of the vents? Chakotay asked a few minutes later.

I have anaesthetic gases, the Doctor admitted. But it will put the crew to sleep for several hours as well.

I'll take the risk. Take some canisters to Environmental as well. You can go around with security to treat anybody that is injured.

With that Chakotay returned to the Bridge.

  


Kala, prepare to seal ventilation to the Bridge, Chakotay demanded as soon as he emerged from the lift.

How soon before we reach the anomaly? He continued, slumping in his chair.

Three hours, Sir! Winston reported.

That was going to be close, he decided. And the others?

We should be about twelve hours ahead of the Komos vessels. The Borg cube is underway, Captain. Estimated arrival about the same time, Ensign Kala reported.

He turned to look at her. I'm not the Captain, he said mildly.

Senior Officer aboard a Star Ship is the Captain, Captain, she refuted adamantly.

You've been with the Colonel too long, he grinned. Remember this is Star Fleet, not the Royal Navy!

She maintained the distinction carefully in her response.

Chakotay shook his head in disbelief and hit his communicator.

Chakotay to Engineering?

It was with some relief he heard B'Elanna's strident response.

We are about to smoke the dwarves out of the vents with tear gas then put them to sleep, he advised. Can you seal the ventilation systems down there until the gases dissipate. Sam Wildman claimed they had been badly damaged.

How long have I got before you start? B'Elanna Paris asked, thinking hard.

Not sure, Chakotay admitted. But the problem is at the other end. We have a few hours to prepare for what comes next. We could runaway from the Kommodans easily enough, but not the Borg. How are you? Sam said you were hurt?

I forgot I was in Star Fleet! B'Elanna breezed. I lost my head. I'll try and set portable shields around what is left of the ducts. Engineering out.

  


In Engineering B'Elanna looked around her in some confusion. She had not long regained consciousness and was still trying to work out what Sam Wildman had been doing whilst she had been inactive. The force fields across the doors were obvious enough, that she had made some sense of the rapid bypassing of the warp controls by Lieutenant Caerey, was also easily identified. Eventually she gave up and asked. Sam, how secure are the forcefields across the vents? She called.

Samantha Wildman looked up from a panel she was trying to repair. Level 5, Lieutenant. Enough to stop people getting in.

Get them upto level 10. We might have to withstand a gas attack and some pretty serious dwarves. Find breathers and make sure everybody has phasors, in case they try and break through.

B'Elanna turned and checked Caerey. They had been unable to transport him out of engineering because of the forcefields. Instead they had wrapped his burns as well as they could and applied what anti burn salves were in the Engineering first aid kit. He was as white as a sheet, unconscious but generally comfortable, B'Elanna decided hopefully. She turned to continue working on the panel left by Sam Wildman as she arranged for the required increase in shields.

  


We are ready, Commander, T'Pau informed Chakoaty fifteen minutes later.

Chakotay tensed before issuing the command. It was going to prove a dramatic cure for the situation. He felt for the crew that were unprotected from what was to come and prayed that the Doctor would be able to treat the resultant injuries. Set off the gas, he commanded. Give it forty-five minutes to work its way through the ventilation system, then activate the anaesthetic.

Kala, close Bridge vents. We will have to survive on emergency air supplies for the couple of hours.

Vents closed. Emergency air system active, Captain, Ensign Kala informed him sombrely.

Time to anomaly, ensign?

Two hours, Sir!

B'Elanna, I need some more speed. Can you get it? Chakotay demanded.

There was nothing to do but wait.

"It is working Commander!" Ensign Kala reported fifteen minutes later. "Security are reporting numerous dwarves have appeared coughing. They are dealing with them as they catch them."

"Remind them there is a second phase," Chakotay agreed.

"Engineering to Bridge. There are some half dozen dwarves trying to get in from the ventilation ducts," B'Elanna reported a few minutes later. "I can let them in?"

"Let them choke!" Chakotay snapped. "They chose the route."

More waiting.

"Security to Captain. The tear gas is dissipating, Sir," Ensign T'Pau reported from Environmental Control. "I think all but a couple of dwarves have been forced out. The captives report a total of 94. We have accounted for 83 and think there may be a few trapped. Do you wish to continue with the anaethestine gas?"

For a few moments Chakotay thought about the question. Using the anaesthetic would be a close call with what was destined to come next and he would need the crew in good order if they were to fight other ships. "Ensure there is security in all strategic points. Gather a team together to find the trapped dwarves. If you are right and the effects last for a while then you have an hour to drag them out," he decided.

"Aye, Sir!"

  


95 minutes later Winston slewed Voyager around the back of the anomaly, pitched Voyager up and dived straight among the ships that surrounded it, before bringing her to a dead halt beside a hulk.

Where did you learn to fly like that? Chakotay asked, impressed at the level of skill displayed.

I was a taxi driver in New York before I joined Star Fleet, Sir, Winston admitted.

Still bemused by the Ensigns actions, Chakotay turned on Ensign Kala. What else is there here that we can use?

Kala bent to her sensors, then stood up sharply. There is another Federation vessel, Captain! I've picked up the beacon. It appears undamaged.

Incredulously Chakotay span on her. Where? What is it?

I'm trying to identify it, Captain, she admitted. Bearing 50.23 range 1500 kilometres.

It is an Excelsior Class, the ensign reported in surprise some forty seconds later as the computer finally tracked the signal. USS Argonaut, lost 56 years ago. That would make her an early model, Sir!

I remember those, Sir, Winston commented reminiscently. Good shields and phasors, handled like a sack of potatoes.

Chakotay looked at him quizzically.

I served on one as a Conn Officer, Winston admitted.

Could you still fly one? Chakotay asked quickly. A germ of an idea forming.

I will remember, Sir! Winston responded after a moments hesitation.

More of the Colonel's training, Chakotay reflected with a grin. He did not like terms like I think' and No', they did not exist. He reached for his communicator. Chakotay to B'Elanna. Report to the Bridge.

Kala put the Argonaut on screen, he added quickly.

Behind him the lift door opened and two figures stepped out. Ensigns Carver and Abbott, requesting permission to return to duty, Sir!

What are you two doing here? Chakotay exploded in surprise spinning on the two junior officers. he pointed at the still pale Carver. Were at deaths door a few hours ago! Get back to sickbay!

The two of them stood firm at Chakotay's seeming fury. Most of Beta and Gamma shifts are in sickbay, Sir! Those that aren't are hunting dwarves, Carver protested. Ensign Abbott's injuries are not severe and mine only restrict movement! We wish to return to active duty.

Behind them B'Elanna appeared and stared in surprise at the two walking injuries. The Doctor is looking for you and he isn't in a good mood. You ran out on him, she commented wryly. Still you did a good job on the distribution node, Ensign.

With that she turned on Chakotay. I have engineering crews crawling over the whole of Engineering. I'm needed there. This had better be good? B'Elanna snapped.

Distracted Chakotay waved at the view screen. How quickly could you get that up and working? He asked.

B'Elanna examined the Argonaut critically for a few minutes. With a full engineering crew, three days, she decided.

I need it in ten hours.

Can't be done. We would have to examine the injectors and coil before we let anti-matter near them. Then there is the computer to restart and the cross linking, B'Elanna opined.

What if we were to take Corporal Miller with us, Sir? Carver suggested. He could handle the computer and reworking of the control linkings!

I can burnish the injectors clean of corrosion, Abbott volunteered, surprising herself and everybody else on the bridge. They all turned to look at her.

The coatings on the injectors on older ships were a lot thicker than now, she explained, blushing furiously. And Colonel Samuels made me some tools for polishing specimens. They can be used there.

Chakotay turned a quizzical eye to B'Elanna, I think you have a crew, he said simply. Winston, Abbott and Corporal Miller. Get the Doctors emitter off of him.

Did you hear that Corporal? Chakotay asked loudly. That is satisfactory?

Captain Janeway is not present, Sir! Miller responded. I need permission from the Senior British Officer?

He isn't here either, and he won't have the opportunity unless you help, Chakotay snapped.

There was silence.

If you're gonna clear it with the Colonel afterwards, Sir? Miller asked uncertainly.

Chakotay had never heard of a nervous computer before. I'll take anything he throws at you, he promised, keeping a straight face.

With a sigh of relief Chakotay turned back to B'Elanna. How quickly can you get ready?

Twenty minutes, she declared. She turned and headed for the lift again, rapidly joined by Ensigns Abbott and Winston.

Kala, take Ops. Carver, take tactical, Chakotay sighed in defeat and resuming his seat.

  


Twenty-five minutes later the small party, fortified by Ensign Samantha Wildman beamed to the Argonaut. Miller still trying to come to terms with his new found movement. The Doctor had been less than impressed at the idea of giving his mobile emitter to his resident holographic rival. In the end B'Elanna had simply snatched the device away from him and forcibly downloaded the doctor back to the computer, vacating the small device for the Corporal. She had some sympathy for the doctor. His movement was going to be severely limited, but he could become severely non-existent if Voyager was badly damaged. She would need the Corporal to get the Argonaut operating.

I'll get the Bridge operating, Winston volunteered quickly. 

B'Elanna nodded and turned for Engineering. I'll join you as soon as possible, she called over her shoulder.

Winston's first thought on reaching Argonaut's bridge was surprise at the lack of damage.

Whatever had happened here, it was quick.

The chamber was only dimly lit, its emergency lighting turning everything it touched a blood-soaked red.

In spite of the dim, somewhat intimidating atmosphere, it didn't take him long to realise that there were far too few of the shadowy shapes that were all that remained after someone was hit by a disrupter set to full power.

He could only see five such shadows, meaning that at least half of the crew usually assigned to an Excelsior class ship's bridge hadn't been killed when their shipmates could have lost their lives.

It took him only a moment to find the data port on the captain's chair and connect the holo-emitter that contained Corporal Miller's programs to it. Networking technology had improved greatly over the last half century and it would take a few minutes for the corporal to download himself into Argonaut's mainframe.

A process that could only begin when B'Elanna Paris brought the ship to full power.

For the moment, there was nothing to do but hack the ship's logs to see how many of the wrecks that surrounded Argonaut had been there when she had been shut down.

"Ms. Abbott," he said softly, taking the centre seat as he did so.

"Sir?" she inquired, stepping quickly to his side.

"I want you to have a look at the ship's computers. Try to find out what ships were here when they shut Argonaut down and compare that list with Voyager's current scan. After that, we can figure out how to use what we've got to our best advantage."

"Can't Voyager's sensors do a better job of cataloguing what's here with us?" Abbott asked, fear in her voice.

"Normally, yes," Winston said. "But with the effects of the magnetic flux, its not certain that her sensors will be any more effective at all ranges. Lieutenant Paris said something about distortion, which is why The Captain moved us so close to Argonaut before we beamed over. Since we're inside the effect, we can take scans without being as badly affected by the anomaly's magnetic flux."

"That makes sense, " Abbott admitted. "But I don't have much experience with breaking into a computer that doesn't want me there," she whispered, obviously afraid of failing to complete what Winston thought of as a fairly simple task.

"It shouldn't be that hard," he encouraged. "Captain Chakotay should be able to give you this ship's prefix codes. The computers should be open to you once you've got them."

"I'll get on it right away," she said, obviously glad that she wouldn't have to do anything that would tax training that she obviously didn't have the confidence to use.

Winston wondered how she had ever managed to pass the academy's psychology profile. It was intended to weed out applicants who didn't have a good deal of self confidence. After all, if you weren't sure of yourself and your decisions, you might hesitate at a critical moment.

A hesitation that could kill.

It was up to the academy to teach you when to think and when simply to react. Only those who learned how to react, gained their own commands. The Colonel had riveted the two together with the force of a super nova. Forcing him to think and react faster and in unison with and for others, silently and predictively carrying out the orders that would come as circumstances changed.

He had been close to becoming the captain of a starship once, and he was honoured that Captain Chakotay had trusted him enough to give him command of Argonaut now. Now it was time to see how those ideas worked.

His musings were interrupted by Paris' obviously pleased voice.

"Paris to bridge,"

"Bridge, Winston here."

"The mains are ready to go, Captain," the engineer told him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Winston demanded.

"Your permission to light her up," Paris snapped, her Klingon temper flaring.

"After all, there's about a twenty percent chance that when I start this old bird up, her warp core will breach. Needless to say, I thought that you might want to be prepared."

"I see," Winston replied, barely noticing Abbott's sudden pallor.

"Well, let's have at it, then."

"OK," Paris rejoined.

"Mains on line in five, four, three, two, one...."

Moments later, the ship's main lights snapped on, bathing everything in the off-white glow that Winston associated with Starfleet ships.

The artificial gravity, which had been at only a third of standard quickly ramped up and he found himself settling into the captain's chair, his apparent weight now what he was used to.

Though he had not been overly uncomfortable in the ship's low-powered environment, he immediately saw that the brighter light and stronger gravity had done much to comfort the mousy woman with whom he shared Argonaut's bridge.

"Winston to Voyager," he barked, the pleasure of an increasingly functional command filtering through in every word and action.

"Voyager, Chakotay,"

"Lieutenant Paris has re-established main power Captain, and we're now moving to have a look at weapons and other systems. I'm going to have Ms. Abbott scan the ships out here for raw materials and such. We may be able to pick up some things that we can use here, or on Voyager. In any case, it'll help to know what materials these ships are made of should we need to blow any of them up."

"Argonaut, can you repeat that last?"

"You heard me right, sir." Winston confirmed.

"Since those Kommodan ships use contained plasma weapons as their main offensive armament, we would be best to have a field of rubble here as they can't shoot through it without wasting their shots on the debris field.

Our phasers will just shrug off anything that's in their way, if we chop up what's in here enough."

"I see," Chakotay said after a moment.

"So if we destroy some of these old wrecks we'll have a tactical advantage against the Kommodans. What about the Borg?"

"The rubble should also make it harder for the Borg to hook on to our ships with their tractor beams, Captain. Those cutting beams will be a problem because Argonaut's shields won't hold against them. Ultimately, it may be best to have Voyager in the rubble field, but I'd ask that we hold off on talking about that until I'm a bit clearer on what we'll be able to do with this ship."

"Sounds reasonable, though I would like it if you could tell me why you think Argonaut's shields won't hold well against the Borg's weapons," Chakotay said dryly.

"After All, I'd hoped not to be sending you on a near-suicide mission."

"Argonaut was launched before the particular shield-to-computer interface that we use now was invented. Hopefully Corporal Miller can help us figure out a way to modulate her shields enough to be useful, but if not, I've got a couple of ideas. I'll need to talk them over with Ms. Paris before I bring them to you."

"Very good," Chakotay acceded. "Just make sure that they work."

"That's my goal, sir." Winston rejoined lightly. "After all, it'd be rather unpleasant to be over here if we don't. For the moment, I'd better get back to work on figuring out the differences between this ship and the Excelsior Class ships I served on."

"Differences?"

"Yes, Sir! Differences. This ship is old and was shut down more than fifty years ago. The technology's out of date and a lot of it'll never work because of lack of maintenance, Sir!" Winston replied. "But the important systems shouldn't be too hard to fix, or at least that's what Ms. Paris tells me."

"Right," Chakotay murmured, obviously displeased that Winston and Paris had understated Argonaut's possible problems when they had suggested trying to revive the old starship.

"Don't worry about it too much, Sir." Winston encouraged. "After all, I've had instruction from the master of invention. Now's time to see if the Colonel's lessons have actually stuck."

"From what I've seen over here, they have." Chakotay replied. "If they hadn't, I'd have sent someone else over to command that old rust-bucket."

"Don't you call my ship and old rust-bucket, sir." Winston said, righteously offended. "After all, she might hear you and decide to act like one. For now I should get to work so that this ship will act like the Federation starship she was built to be."

"Very well, Captain. I'll look forward to hearing how things are going in an hour."

"An hour, sir." Winston confirmed before the channel closed.

  


A tremendous clang reverberated around Argonaut's vast engine room.

Even though the ship had been fairly easy to restart, fifty years of inaction had caused parts of the structure to deteriorate. With gravity fully restored, pieces of conduit and other parts of the ship's structure had begun falling to the decks. Needless to say, the rain of old structural members had done nothing to maintain B'Elanna Paris' formerly sunny disposition.

"Wildman!" she screamed, wishing fervently that she had been able to send Caerey on this damnable landing party.

"Yes, Lieutenant!" Samantha Wildman's voice rang out from somewhere behind the main energiser.

"Go see about that conduit, and then get Miller to tell you if there are any other parts of the ship that need repairs before you're beamed back to Voyager."

"Yes Ma'am," Wildman chimed, barely able to conceal the relief that she felt at the reprieve from dealing with her commander's increasingly short temper.

As she worked, Samantha Wildman thought long and hard about their situation.

They were incredibly lucky to find a Federation ship that was well supplied with spare parts.

Argonaut's limited self-repairing capability was going a long way toward ensuring its battle-worthiness. Even if they won the upcoming battle against the Kommodans. and The Borg, there was no way to crew it over the long term. It would have to be left behind, no matter the fact that a second ship would go a long way toward ensuring their ultimate return to The Alpha Quadrant. A return that seemed in doubt now that the Captain and Colonel were missing.

The Captain had led them through nearly six years of the hardest space faring that any Federation crew had endured. She had found ways to overcome every problem they faced, and had come out of each situation with an increased measure of respect from everyone aboard Voyager.

Then, suddenly, two years ago, a strange man with stranger values had come aboard and turned the ship upside down.

Now both of the people that Samantha Wildman trusted to get them home were missing, and probably assimilated by the Borg.

Unbelievable stroke of luck though Argonaut might be, Wildman wondered whether it would be enough to see them through the battle that would soon break upon them all.

  


With ten hours before the Kommodans. and Borg were to arrive, Chakotay could only sit, board and increasingly frustrated, on Voyager's bridge. Winston and Paris had felt that their commander should not board the old ship, and had made their unwillingness to let him inspect it more than clear in their last conference call.

Chakotay's frown deepened at the memory of the conversation.

"I'm sorry Captain, but I have to advise against your coming aboard at this time," Winston said, his image dominating Voyager's bridge.

"We've only barely gotten the ship running, and even though the main viewer's working now, there are still a lot of secondary systems that we need to put together. Not only that, but as we generate more power, the anomaly seems to be increasing its own activity as well."

"I see," Chakotay sighed, frustrated.

"B'Elanna, do you have any idea why the anomaly's status has changed?"

"Nothing for sure," her angry voice snapped from wherever she was working. "After all, I've been a bit busy trying to put together this fifty year old ship. She'll be ready for you when you need her, but there's way too much for me to deal with in her guts to worry about what's going inside that anomaly."

"Understood," Chakotay barked, borrowing from Janeway's bag of tricks where dealing with B'Elanna was concerned.

"I'll look forward to hearing that Argonaut is in top shape," he said, knowing fully well that she wouldn't be able to get it there.

He was equally sure that B'Elanna would focus on the challenge that he had just given her to the exclusion of her frustration over the older ship's decay.

A focus that would also allow her to get more done rather than worrying over the things, such as her missing husband's fate, that she couldn't control.

"Aye Sir," came her reply, nearly drowned out by the sound of the phaser torch that she was using.

"I'll leave you to her tender mercies Captain," Chakotay said, small grin creasing his features.

"Very good, sir." Winston said straight-faced, not daring to look at Abbott who had been able to overhear the entire exchange.

"I'll report in as soon as we have anything for you."

"Very well," Chakotay acceded, knowing that there was still far too much to be done to bring Argonaut back to anything approaching full functionality.

The problem was, Chakotay reflected darkly, that the conversation had occurred nearly three hours previously and so far no further word from Argonaut.

If Winston didn't call in soon, he'd have to call himself.

If for no other reason than to remind Argonaut's captain to get some sleep.

  


"Ens- I mean, Captain Winston, I have a scan of the ships surrounding us." Abbott finally reported.

"What can you tell me," he asked, moving from the centre seat to stand beside her at the science console.

"There is a diverse set of ships, running from small star fighter or shuttle class vessels up to enormous container ships far larger than anything we have had contact with. The materials used in their construction are equally varied." She reported, voice barely above a whisper.

Though her report had been delivered somewhat tentatively, Winston could see that working in a field that she was familiar with was a source of comfort to her.

The fact that she had not flinched away from him when he took station at her side was strong evidence of this.

He made a mental note to tell Captain Janeway of Abbott's obvious pleasure at working in familiar territory in hopes that she would get more chances to work in the Astrometrics and metallurgy laboratories. Seven might object, but if the young woman could make a stronger contribution to the ship, he would do everything in his power to see that she got the chance. 

Of course, before any of this could happen, they had to find a way to beat the Borg and Kommodan forces that were only a few hours away.

After that, they would have to find and possibly rescue their missing crew.

Of course, with any luck, the Colonel would have taken care of this by the time Voyager caught up with him.

For now, all he could do was get a report on the composition of those wrecks. Hopefully some of them would be useful for the strategy that he had worked out with Chakotay.

"Are any of the larger vessels located near the outer edge of the anomaly?"

"No, sir." she replied after a few moments' work with the sensors.

"As with any gravitational source, massive objects are drawn toward the centre of this anomaly more quickly than smaller ships like Argonaut. Ships have to either produce power or have a lot of inertial momentum to keep themselves from falling in, and since these ships are drifting and have little power, all are moving toward the centre at various speeds. Many of the ships have collected around the object that seems to be responsible for the effect. In fact, if it weren't for the shield that seems to protect it, a fairly large number of ships would have crashed into it directly."

Winston nodded, not surprised by what he had heard, but frustrated by it all the same.

"Do you think that a torpedo strike against one of those ships would be enough to break it up and spread its remains throughout the region?"

"No, Sir! The strength of the gravitational forces in the area seem to be growing, possibly as a response to the power generated by Argonaut and Voyager. At this point, the field is too strong for a torpedo explosion to overcome."

"Blast!" Winston exploded, unconsciously using one of The Colonel's signatory ways of expressing frustration.

Abbott jumped, obviously frightened by his vehemence.

"Sorry, Ensign," Winston muttered, stamping back toward the centre seat. He had to find a way to get around this problem, for without it, their strategy for blunting the Kommodans' numerical advantage might be in serious danger.

Fortunately, he'd had an excellent teacher and it didn't take long for the lessons on creativity that the Colonel had drilled into his shipmates on the Dog Watch to take hold. Within moments he had an idea. A dangerous one to be sure, but one that he thought would probably work. All he needed do now was to check it with 'his' chief engineer.

"Winston to Paris," he snapped, tapping his com-badge as he spoke.

"Paris here," her sleep-thickened voice responded some moments later.

"Sorry Ms. Paris," he apologised, only now realising that she was probably getting the first sleep that she had seen since the Kommodans' attack nearly two days earlier.

"Too late for that," she mumbled, voice barely audible on Argonaut's bridge. Now that you've got me up, you might as well tell me what you wanted," she prompted.

"Oh, Right." Winston replied, trying to recollect his thoughts.

"Ensign Abbott has just finished a scan of the ships that have been trapped here, and tells me that the really big ones are too close to the centre of the anomaly to be chopped into rubble and easily spread around the region. I'm wondering if you can have a look at her data and tell me if we could beam some photon torpedoes into their main energisers?

Voyager would have a better chance if we can get an explosion big enough to either destroy the anomaly or at least give us the rubble field that we'll need to hide her in while she fights any Kommodans. that get past us," he explained.

"Sure, no problem." Paris said, voice sharpening with interest as she spoke. "I'm on duty in about an hour, and will get on it right away. How are the other repairs going?"

"Just fine." Winston told her. "Lt. Caerey has taken over for Ms. Wildman and we've got the main energisers, weapons and shields back to full capability. I'll get him on the transporters now that they'll be necessary, and we'll get the replicators up just in case."

"In case of what?" Paris demanded.

"In case we need them should Argonaut be the only ship to survive."

"Oh," she replied, obviously chastened by the thought of losing the ship that had become her home. "Well, in that case, I suppose that I should let you go so you can get him started."

"Probably so," Winston concurred.

"Have Voyager beam you to the phaser control room when you're ready, we'll need to test-fire the weapons to make sure that everything is working, and you're the best-qualified person to supervise. The weapons scanners should be more than enough to let you check into any ships that you think we can blow up."

"OK, out," she said, cutting the connection with some of the gruffness that she had lost since her marriage to Tom Paris.

  


With only a few hours before they would be thrown into the thick of battle, Chakotay was pleased by the reports coming from Argonaut.

The old Excelsior class ship was coming back to life and he knew that B'Elanna Paris was taking pleasure in her work. She had handled the possibility that her husband had been captured by the Borg far better than he had hoped. Possibly the fit of rage during the battle against the Kommodan boarders in Engineering was what she had needed to avoid sinking into depression.

Winston was pushing the small engineering crew that he had been given very hard. All knew that they would have to give their best if the Voyagers would live to see another day. 

They had far too little time until the Kommodan fleet arrived. There would be only a few minutes to dispatch it before the Borg came. Happily, the crew was working harder than ever before, and both ships would be ready.

Chakotay knew that he needed sleep in order to be prepared for what would come, and had ordered that all crew get at least four hours' rest before they went into battle. He needed to get a report from Argonaut as to its latest progress before he could rest himself. As soon as this was done, he would take his four hours' rest and see that Winston did too.

While they rested, B'Elanna would be in charge of both ships.

Almost as if called by his spirit guide, Winston's voice interrupted his musings before they could turn to the horrid possibilities that awaited them if, for any number of reasons, they lost.

"Argonaut to Chakotay," Winston's voice rang clear and strong from his quarters' speakers.

"Chakotay here." he said warily, only now realising just how tired he was.

"All is well here, Captain." Winston reported, voice obviously pleased with the tremendous progress that his small crew was making.

"All weapons test as ready to fire, and we've got a few candidates for operation trash box."

"Good." Chakotay said. "When will you blow them up?"

"About twenty minutes before the Kommodans arrive. That should give the rubble field enough time to spread without letting it get too thin. As soon as the anomaly is disrupted by the blast, we'll head out to take on the Kommodans, while you wait here and nail any that get through, sir."

"Fine," Chakotay agreed, knowing that Voyager's smaller and more manoeuvrable form was best for working the tight spaces that would be created by the destruction of the old wrecks.

There was one thing about the forthcoming operation that he didn't like, however. "What will you do if the Borg arrive before you're done with the Kommodans?"

"Ms. Paris and I talked about this after you mentioned it earlier, Captain. She's pretty sure that the Borg'll ignore us in favour of getting at Voyager. This should allow us to deal with the Kommodans. and keep the Borg off of our backs.

Miller hasn't been able to help us figure out a way to modulate the shields effectively, and even though ours are more powerful than Voyager's, it still looks like The Borg will cut through us like a knife through butter. On the other hand, our stronger conventional shielding and heavier phasers will give us a better chance against the Kommodans. We should be able to keep them busy enough to let you stay in the rubble field until the Borg get here. After that, we'll just have to 'praise god and pass the ammunition', I suppose?"

"Well, Its not a great plan," Chakotay opined, "but its the best one that we've got. Make sure that your people get some rest before you begin things."

"Be sure to rest as well, Captain. After all, You've ultimately got the harder job. You have to explain all this to Captain Janeway, when we finish!"

"Understood," Chakotay concurred with a grin, "I'm off for about five hours' sleep now. Hopefully that'll be enough to see us through whatever comes next."

"It'd better be, Sir, Winston agreed. "Argonaut out."

"Voyager out," Chakotay confirmed.

The moment the connection was broken, he kicked his boots off and fell into bed. Exhausted though he was, it took some time for sleep to find him.

There were simply too many scenarios moving through his mind and far too many of them ended in the destruction of one or both of the ships and the assimilation or death of the crew that Kathryn had left in his hands.

  


"How long until the Kommodans get here?" Chakotay demanded from his position behind ensign Carver.

"About twenty-seven minutes, sir!" Kala reported from her place at the ops console.

It was, Chakotay knew, time to get things started. If only Kathryn and The Colonel were here, he'd feel a lot better. For now, he'd have to do with a patched together group of ensigns from two utterly different watches.

Each trained under totally different standards.

He knew well that the crew was as unsure of their ability to work together as he was, and only hoped that something would break the rising tension on Voyager's bridge.

Needless to say, he was not sure that he could find the words to overcome it himself.

Hopefully, the heat of battle would melt their fears...and his own.

"Hail Mr. Winston aboard Argonaut and tell him to get things moving," he said as he took Kathryn's chair, hoping that Winston's report would divert him from worrying about the state of Voyager's crew.

"Captain Winston on the main viewer," Carver reported as Argonaut's image was replaced by Winston's purposeful frown.

Chakotay wasted no time in coming to the point.

"We're about twenty-six minutes from direct contact with the Kommodans. Are you ready over there?"

"Yes Sir, or at least as ready as we'll ever be." Winston reported.

"Ms. Paris tells me that the last of her engineers has beamed back to Voyager. She told me to tell you that Mr. Caerey will be in charge down in engineering if you need to talk with someone there. All weapons are ready to fire, and Corporal Miller has just installed himself on the helm. He's got the ship's major systems fairly well automated and tells me that he's ready to take the Starfleet navigator's examination if we've got the time."

"Unfortunately, he'll have to wait until we can transfer him back here for that," Chakotay said with a smile. "Tell him that we'll be happy to make him an officer if he sees you through the battle."

At this, the screen shifted slightly, showing Miller's horrified face.

"I didn't say nuffin' about becommin' a bleedin' officer, Cap'n," the scruffy-looking hologram snapped, "I just told 'im that I'd be 'appy to take the exam if you wanted me to, Guv'. Honest!."

"Not necessary," Chakotay laughed. "I trust that you'd do quite well on it after all of the time that you've spent in the computers of some of Starfleet's best ships."

Winston retook the screen at this point, obviously trying to suppress laughter at the now invisible corporal's antics.

"I'd not offer him the chance, Sir!" He said straight faced. After all, he's seen every Starfleet exam on the subject for at least the last century. There's no question but that he could cheat his way to a perfect score."

"True enough," Chakotay agreed over Miller's loud protestations. "Hopefully he'll do as well as we expect," Voyager's captain continued, refocusing them on the job at hand.

"Are you ready for operation Trash Box?" he queried, not sure that he truly wanted to hear a "yes" in answer to his question. 

Necessary though it might be, starting the operation would irrevocably commit him to fighting the Kommodans. and The Borg as well.

Much as Chakotay might want to use Voyager's superior speed to run away from Kommos, he would have to fight both in order to assure himself of the ability to return there. A return that would have to be carried out in order to assure himself and Voyager's crew that The Captain hadn't been trapped on a planet whose people were far too adept at treachery.

"Yes, Sir!" Winston replied.

"Ms. Abbott has targeted four large vessels whose antimatter load is high enough to assure us a sufficiently large explosion. She's also found a few other ships that you might be able to use as heavy explosives if you need to. She is sending transporter co-ordinates to your tactical board."

Carver nodded when the transmission came in and Chakotay repeated the gesture for Winston.

"OK, then," Winston sighed.

"We'll be in position in about thirty seconds. After that, Captain, I'm not sure if we'll be able to receive you until after the battle. Interference from antimatter explosions like the ones that we're setting off will probably be fairly heavy."

"Understood," Chakotay said as the main viewer shifted to show Argonaut moving toward the centre of the anomaly.

Winston continued to describe what Argonaut's sensors were telling him as his ship closed on its targets.

"We're about twenty seconds from energising the transporters. Ms. Paris reports that the warp drive is at full power and Corporal Miller has a high warp course laid in. We'll be able to intercept the Kommodan fleet in three minutes, Mark." Kim tapped on his board and a countdown clock appeared on Voyager's main viewer.

"Ten seconds to transport," Winston reported, voice quiet with tension.

"Good luck, Captain," Chakotay said, offering a brief prayer that his shipmates would survive the forthcoming battle.

"Thank you, Voyager," Winston replied. "Argonaut wishes you luck as well, and reports that transport will commence in five, four, three, two, one......."

Time seemed to stand still for just a moment.

Then, with virtually no warning, Voyager was shaking violently.

The ship had been caught by the tremendous gravimetric waves caused by the explosion and its interaction with the anomaly's still-functioning machinery. Its structure screamed under the unimaginable stress and then blessed silence returned.

A silence mirrored by Voyager's bridge crew, all of whom were staring in amazement at the massive confusion that had broken loose throughout the region. Huge chunks of metal span lazily across the view screen in a growing plume of debris, several striking each other, sometimes breaking into smaller parts, others simply spinning off in new directions.

It worked! Chakotay breathed. Harry, take us into the middle of it. Just don't hit anything!

  


Winston's fingers were clutched tightly around the arm rests of Argonaut's command chair. Miller had redirected the Argonaut as soon as the torpedoes had been beamed off. Now the ship was hurtling through space at a bit less than warp 9, her engines straining mightily to bring her into contact with the Kommodan fleet.

"Two minutes from intercept with Kommodans," Miller said, fingers working the helm/navigation console far faster than any corporeal being could have hoped to. Though he would have preferred to simply control the ship's functions from inside the computer, too many systems had been separated by either failure or design. Therefore, he was forced to use the physical controls in order to bridge the gaps.

"Very well," Winston acknowledged. "Bridge to photon control room, Ms. Abbott, are you ready?"

"Yes, Captain." she replied, unnerved by the responsibility that she had been asked to bear. "All torpedo systems show green."

"Good." Winston said, knowing that more words would only increase her nervousness. "You know what to do after we've fired the first broadside?"

"Yes, Captain." Abbott's voice replied. "Ms. Torres told me that the ship will reload the torpedoes automatically, I only need to arm them before you fire."

"That's right," Winston concurred. "There shouldn't be any problems so long as you remember to hit the arming controls as soon as the torpedoes are in the tubes. I'm hoping that we won't need to use the photons after the first broadside, so things should be fairly quiet down there. We're a minute away, so buckle in and just hold on."

"I will, sir." Abbott replied, voice shaking. Winston sighed, frustrated that he had been forced to take her aboard. The work with Argonaut's scanners had been good for her but she was now in a position that would require her to act and react quickly if called on. He doubted that she would be able to do what was needed and only hoped that Argonaut's phasers would be enough. It was now time to make sure that everything else was in its place.

"Bridge to Engineering. Ms. Torres, your status?" 

"All's fine down here," The Klingon's voice replied. "Warp engines are running fine and all phasers are ready to fire from engineering control. All extraneous life support is shut down, which should give us a bit of extra power for weapons and shields."

"How much extra?" Winston asked, pleased that she had been able to divert the power.

"Oh, enough for 130 percent of standard on phasers and full shields," Torres said smugly.

"Excellent!" Winston enthused. "We're twenty seconds out, lock down and get ready for anything."

"As always, sir." Torres replied, confidently.

Winston smiled, closing the link.

"Mr. Miller, tactical on the main viewer please."

"Tactical, Aye."

Winston glanced at the viewer's representation of the tactical situation. Voyager had relayed its scan of the Commodans' formation as it closed on the anomoly. As a result, he had he had been able to plan for what was to come, knowing that he had a number of advantages over his numerically superior foe. Argonaut would enter the Commodan sensor range in about three seconds, and would be on them in fifteen. There were benefits, Winston reflected grimly, to advanced technology--even if it was half a century behind the Federation's best.

The three Commodan ships that had been sent to chase Voyager down were in the classic sloped triangle formation, the lead ship a few thousand kilometers ahead of, and below, its companions. These were spaced a few thousand kilometers apart, flying in a horizontal line from which their forward firing arcs would not interfere with each other.

"Mr. Miller, you have the helm, take her in as we planned it," Winston said, fingers tightening on the arms of the captain's chair.

"Aye, Guv'nor," Miller said.

Even the hologram's voice seemed to tighten as the Federation ship closed on its unsuspecting targets.

"Commodan sensors have us," Winston said, looking at the centre seat's tactical repeater.

"Commencing starboard evasive," Miller shouted as the ship bucked hard, swinging to the right and decelerating at the same time. Engines screaming, the big ship slid down and to the right, shooting past the Commodans at a bit less than warp five. Winston fired its phasers, clipping the right-most Commodan ship but doing no damage.

"Coming around," Miller reported, as the ship spun to the left, inertial stabilisers struggling to hold against the crushing forces exerted by the manoeuver.

"Moving up between the after-most ships, Cap'n," Miller shouted a few seconds later. "Coming into position for attack on forward ship."

Winston watched the main viewer, eyes flicking down to his tactical repeater as Argonaut slid between the ships at the rear of the Commodan triangle. If Miller could hold things just right, the Commodan ships at the base of the triangle wouldn't be able to fire at Argonaut as they would risk hitting each other if they missed. It wouldn't take more than a few seconds for them to adjust, but he would get enough time to shoot at the painfully unprotected lead ship. Hitting it with a full broadside from behind. Before Miller could tell him that they had found their position, his finger stabbed down on the phaser and photon controls.

Argonaut's awesome weapons unleashed a withering storm of fire into the Commodan battleship.

The Federation vessel's torpedoes crashed into the Commodan's shields, doing notable damage. Argonaut's phasers, which were being fired at far above maximum power levels tore into the weakened shielding, blasting it into flaring submission. Moments later, the unprotected Commodan ship had lost its starboard warp nacelle. While rebalancing the warp field of such a ship might be possible, Winston knew that it would take many hours to complete the task, nor would they be taking a great part in the battle. For now, he could ignore it and move onto the other ships, one of which had twisted out of position and was now firing its powerful plasma weapons.....

"Hold on," Winston cried, trying to retarget the phasers in hopes of shooting down the plasma bolt before it struck. His shot went wide, spearing out into open space. Fortunately, Miller had also noticed the threat and his incredibly fast reflexes brought Argonaut through a sharp evasive. He succeeded in evading the first bolt, but his inexperience led the great ship directly into the path of the next. 

Fired at such close range no shields in the galaxy could completely contain the crushing blow. The plasma bolt struck the underside of the saucer section, sending Winston flying. At the helm Miller flickered for a moment as the power dipped.

Starboard shields are down, Sir! Miller reported to a still dazed Winston as he staggered back to the tactical console. Major breaches decks 9 to 15. Think it exploded on deck 12, Sir.

B'Elanna, I need starboard shields! Winston demanded, working feverishly at his panel, much of the targeting array had failed as well.

In engineering, B'Elanna Paris struggled past the console that had shifted in the explosion to examine the readouts. Not a chance, she responded to Winstons curt demand. Every power relay on that side of the ship has gone. I'm redirecting power to give you phasors.

Abbott, are the torpedoes still operational? Winston tried, slamming the panel in frustration.

The tubes are loaded, Ensign Abbotts shaky voice reported. But the loaders have got stuck.

Free them, Winston demanded. Miller don't show a starboard side to them again. Bring us around for a second shot.

Miller had already anticipated the first command, but was taken by surprise by the second. He had thought that the Ensign had been the Colonels prodigy until now. He glanced over his shoulder. Can't do both, Sir. 

We need to regain momentum, or we'll be sitting ducks, he explained quickly to the outraged look. No sense in being the coconuts in the shy.

As if to prove the point another plasma bolt struck, this time glancing off the port shields.

Get me a shot! Winston roared. 

Applying full power, Miller pushed the Argonaut forward, rolling as he did so to avoid the plasma bolts directed at the ship as she staggered away. Barely sixty seconds later he was reefing her around again to point at the enemy.

Coming bow on to nearest Kommode ship, Sir, he declared. No deflection, so manual targeting will work.

Winston glared at him as he worked course corrections to find the little corporal correct. The Kommodes were still turning to intercept, without the Argonauts advantage of momentum they were slower to respond. They could still fire though and the glowing orbs of plasma were already sailing towards them.

Winston tried to ignore them. Manual targeting was more likely to succeed at shorter ranges and he needed his weapons to do serious damage. He counted to ten, then stabbed at the fire controls.

As soon as the torpedoes left their launcher Miller was again hauling the Argonaut away, desperately trying to avoid the rapidly approaching bolts.

He almost made it, most passing harmlessly behind the Argonaut as he hauled her upwards. One wandered off course and slid past the damaged shields and struck the engineering section.

As it exploded sending the ship reeling, Miller sensed the drive failing.

Loosing impulse, he managed to splutter. His image flickered and died.

About the same instant Argonauts torpedoes struck the Kommodan battleship. On his own, transfixed by the spectacle, Winston could only watch as plumes of fire and smoke gushed towards him. The shields must have been dropped for another salvo for the torpedoes to do that much damage, he reasoned.

Two minutes later Miller flickered back into life at his seat. Sorry, Sir. A few relays blew in the last strike. I've diverted power. Lieutenant Paris is bringing impulse on line, but its hell down there he reported circumspectly.

Winston ignored him and continued to stare at the Kommodan battleship, as it began to swing around towards his own ship, explosions now clearly visible over her upper flanks as well as from her mauled side. The Kommodans couldn't escape, their ship was in its death throes. Their manoeuvres could mean only one thing.

"Suicide!!!!" He cried, leaping from his chair and diving for the helm.

Fortunately, Miller had figured out the enemy captain's plans at the same moment and was struggling to bring Argonaut through an incredibly tight turn, slamming items both big and small all over the ship. They crashed about the ship, the low rumble caused by their impacts against her superstructure in counterpoint to the scream of the mighty vessel's engines.

Winston stared in mute horror as he held onto the navigator's seat, feet literally flying above the deck as a result of the inability of the intertial dampers to handle Miller's manoeuvre.

The viewer showed the Kommodan ship bearing down on them, its captain determined to gain a victory. His crew's lives would be lost, but Argonaut's superior technology had ensured this in any case. It was obvious that Winston's opponent had decided that ramming was now his only option. Winston closed his eyes, fully expecting not to open them again. Miller cursed, his holographic fingers literally buzzing over the helm console as he sought to minimise the contact.

  


The impact, when it came, was horrific. The warship smashing through the starboard saucer section, ripping much of it away, as well as the outer hull of the engineering section as it ploughed past, with a tearing of metal sound that could be distinctly heard through out the ship. Winston was thrown from the navigator's chair. The force of the impact was sufficient to send him crashing against the ceiling before he fell, spread-eagled to the floor. The ship continued to buck violently as the tremendous energy of the Kommodan ship's destruction demolished her shields, literally melting the armour on the starboard side of her main hull. The main shields weren't the only system lost as the sensors and navigational deflector also fell before the force of the Kommodans' final assault. Miller's projection had been shut off, the holo-emitter broken when a strut fell, crushing the helm console. The program had been forced to take over the ship from inside her computers. 

His first action was to bring the ship to a halt, to keep it from crashing into any of the millions of small but deadly objects that could destroy it as they could neither be avoided nor moved out of the way by the disfunctional navigational deflector. His second was to assess the situation of the ship and its small crew, then the state of what was left of the Argonaut.

  


Abbott stirred, shocked by the enormous force that ripped through Argonaut's photon torpedo room. Though it was heavily protected, the force of the Kommodan ship's destruction had affected all of Argonaut's compartments to some degree.

Torpedo casings had been thrown about the room, one crushing the console that she had been using to help fire the ship's weapons. The racks had been demolished, huge chunks of metal lay tangled with the forward torpedo launchers. There was no question in Abbott's mind that she was very lucky to be alive as she levered herself into a sitting position and looked around in stunned confusion.

Miller's voice broke through her dissarranged thoughts, his report terrifying her in a way that she had never been before.

"Ms. Abbott," he said gently, voice as soft as her communicator would permit, "I'm sorry to have to report this to you. But you're the only conscious member of the crew. I need orders if I'm to get repairs under way, Ma'am?"

She remained silent.

Millers voice repeated. You are the senior officer now. You've gotta take command.

"Um, do what you need to do." she said, shocked by the realisation that she was now in command--even if temporarily. She knew that other questions needed to be asked, but her Star Fleet training could not compete with her rising terror.

Fortunately, The Colonel had trained Miller well and the corporal, knowing that he needed to act like a platoon sergeant now, quietly began leading her through the steps that she would need to take.

"You'll be needin' to go to engineering to have a look at Lieutenant Paris and then up to the bridge to check in on the guv'nor."

"Guv'nor?" she asked, dazed by all that she would have to do.

"Yes, Ma'am. Cap'n Winston." Miller told her.

"Oh, right." she said, as she began to move toward engineering.

When she got there, it took a few moments to find B'Elanna Paris, who had been slammed against a bulkhead before coming to rest near the main engineering control board. Fortunately, her tough Klingon constitution had kept her alive, and the medical tricorder that Abbott found in a nearby first-aid kit indicated that a concussion was probably the worst of Torres' injuries. Use of the tissue regenerator in the kit was beyond Abbott's understanding of first aid, so Miller suggested that she simply let the half-Klingon woman come around on her own. Hopefully, Abbott thought grimly, Torres would recover in time to take charge and get them back to Voyager.

The first thing she saw when she got to the bridge was Winston's badly twisted body. She didn't need the medical tricorder to show her that he was badly injured. She used it anyhow to get the full catalogue of damage. It appeared that he had multiple broken ribs, a punctured lung and damage to his spleen, liver and left kidney. The doctor would be able to handle these injuries but except for doing a little bit to repair his ribs and kidney, Abbott could do nothing but stare at him in abject fear. As it was, Miller had been forced to shock her into doing what she could for their injured captain. A process requiring him to say and threaten things that, had the Colonel heard him, would have caused his CO to either hang him on the spot, or wipe his program from existence.

With Winston as well cared for as could be, their attention turned to the ship's condition. Repairs could be made to the sensors and main deflectors, the warp power and impulse engines could be brought on line as well, if not at full power. The remains of the shields would serve as navigational deflectors. So, the loss of the navigational shields could be ignored--for now at least.

It took Miller twenty long minutes of encouragement and cajoling to get Abbott through the process of repairing the sensors. When Miller finally found that they did work, he allowed himself a few nanoseconds' pleasure at getting the skittish girl through the steps that had been required to make it possible for him to get them back to Voyager with some margin of safety.

Uncomfortable though it might be, Abbott found herself sitting in Argonaut's centre seat. Miller had dematerialised Winston's body so that he wouldn't deteriorate any further. Fortunately, this also meant that she didn't have to be reminded of the older officer's critical condition and the responsibility that she now had for getting him back to Voyager. Frightening though they might be, she knew that she was the only one who could get all of them back to Voyager before the ship that was her home could be destroyed, its crew assimilated by the Borg. The thought that she might actually have to take the ship into battle was paralysing.

It was a good thirty minutes of contemplation and nothing happening, before she managed to say in a small voice, Corporal Miller, thank you. I couldn't cope without you. Why aren't you an officer? You must be as good as the Colonel?

No problems, Duck, he responded cheerily, his voice cracking with pride. Us NCO's run the Army, not officers. Can't let em run amok, never know where we were.

But the Colonel is an officer and he always knows where he is, she pointed out.

Miller retorted. He's not a proper officer. The Colonel is a sergeant, Duck. Once a sergeant, always a sergeant. Why d'you think he always wants to be with the action? He's just gone soft with age. 

Despite herself and their precarious position, Llinos Abbott laughed at Millers solemn opinion. Just the thought of the sometimes ferocious Colonel being soft' was preposterous. 

Had Miller not pushed her to accept the situation and do the best with it that she could, they would not have made it back in time to participate in what Chakotay would later call one of the strangest battles in Federation history.

  


Chakotay sat on Voyager's bridge, stunned by the sheer destructive forces that had been unleashed in the anomaly when Argonauts carefully placed torpedoes detonated. As Winston had predicted, all subspace communications were out, and Voyager's sensors were temporarily blinded as well. The main view screen's representation of events, however, seemed to show that things weren't quite going as they had hoped. The tremendous explosion had thrown massive amounts of debris into the near-by space. Debris that increased as other ships exploded in response to the original event or the impact of debris that it had generated. However, the debris wasn't going nearly as far or fast as it should have, and it almost seemed that space itself was twisting near the centre of the anomaly. Without sensors, all that Kala could tell him was that things were, indeed, not going as they had hoped.

"Bridge to engineering," Chakotay snapped, hoping that Caerey could do something to straighten out this mess.

"Engineering, Caerey here."

"Mr. Caerey, our plan isn't going as well as I'd hoped, and our sensors seem to have been knocked out temporarily. I need them fixed--yesterday."

"We're on it Bridge." Caerey replied. Engineering was running smoothly and though he was sure it wouldn't remain so, Caerey was enjoying his temporary command. Fortunately, the sensors had suffered nothing more than a minor overload as a result of the explosion and their diagnostics would bring them back on line within moments.

  


The return of the long range sensors almost had Chakotay wishing that they had not. The first thing noted was that there was a Kommadan ship drifting without power, then Kala was frantically redirecting them again to pick up the second warship. 

It's venting plasma, it's gonna blow! Carver whispered in alarm.

Argonaut is in their way, Sir! Kala commented. They won't get out of the way in time!

In silence they watched the Argonaut roll in a desperate attempt to avoid the inevitable collision. She did not make it, quite. They continued to watch and imagine the great tearing metal sounds, as the Kommodan ship smashed into the underside of the saucer, then swing, taking a side swipe at the engineering section. It continued to swing until it disengaged and span away before exploding in a inferno that had them shielding their eyes from the glare.

Chakotay whispered.

All mains power is down, Sir. Comms are out, Kala responded in a subdued voice and a brief hesitation. Can't get any life readings, but that is no guarantee.

I can get closer to pick up survivors? Kim offered from the helm.

Chakotay resisted the temptation. There is at least one Kommodan ship out there and a Borg cube, he said with a suddenly war weary shake of his head. If we go now we'll lose even more.

Not what the Captain would do, Kim muttered.

Chakotay pointedly ignored the comment and continued to watch as Argonaut continued to tumble, now out of control, hoping for some sign.

"A Borg ship has slowed to sub-light speed, sir." Kala said softly, her words as loud as torpedo explosions on Voyager's silent bridge.

"Understood," Chakotay murmured, the ship's silence affecting him as deeply as it did the rest of the crew.

He had decided that their best chance was to power down nearly every system aboard in hopes that the Borg wouldn't be able to find them. With passive sensors, no shields, absolute minimum life support, no sub-space emissions and all outer areas of the ship evacuated and dark, Voyager was nearly as dead as the ships surrounding her. There was almost no hope that the tactic would work, but if the Borg were careless, they might get lucky.

The Borg, however, had seen similar tactics before and were not to be so deceived. Had a random gravimetric pulse not shaken voyager at just the right moment, the powerful Borg landing parties might have taken the ship with barely a shot fired. Fortunately, the ship's movements were just enough to cause some of the enemy drones to beam into bulkheads or decking. Needless to say, these drones would not function again.

The rest, however, put up formidable resistance, and even with the ship's shields up and fully modulated, several of Voyager's crew came close to being assimilated.

The bridge had not been attacked for some reason and Chakotay could only thank his spirit guide for her intervention. Foolish though Kathryn might think religious beliefs, Chakotay was equally sure that every day that they survived was another gift from the supernatural.

"Report!" Chakotay cried as damage reports and news of the battle to hold the ship poured into the regalvanised bridge.

"Bad, sir." Kala barked, the situation making her sound like Torres at her worst. "Borg reported on several decks, and though many were killed by beaming into bulkheads or damaged by a ten-meter fall in the engineering spaces, too many are still functional. Security thinks that they can be contained but it'll be a close thing."

"Understood," Chakotay acknowledged. "what about the defensive systems and ship's weapons?"

"All at 100%," Kala reported.

"Very well....Navigation, plot course to put us on the the port side of our friends out there."

"Round to Port, Aye," Kim acknowledged.

"Plotted and laid in, Captain."

"Execute."

Voyager moved toward the centre of the anomaly, impulse engines straining under the rapid series of manoeuvres that Kim and Carver were forcing her through.

"Borg ship firing cutting beam," Kala warned.

As Winston had predicted, the Borg weapon was only marginally affected by the flotsam surrounding Voyager. Only moments after Kala's warning the ship shook violently as the Borg weapon tried to tear through her shields and the superstructure they protected. Fortunately, the tractor beam seemed unable to lock onto them through the rubble field and so its shield-draining effects didn't come into play. Of course, Chakotay mused darkly, Voyager couldn't fire for fear of clearing a path down which the Borg might fire before the Federation ship could move. Even if they could keep the shields up against the Borg tractor, being held in place by it would leave them in a test of strength against the Borg weapons--a contest that Voyager would be unlikely to win.

"Second Borg ship approaching from the general direction of Kommos, Sir," Kala snapped.

Chakotay sighed as he watched the already demoralised bridge crew lose even more hope. Even he had to admit that the situation didn't seem good. 

"Condition of the cube?" he demanded, caught between the hope that Argonaut had been in a condition to intercept it and the equally strong wish that it had not.

"Pretty scratched up, sir."

"Scratched up in what way?"

"Serious damage to several sections of the ship....looks like damage from plasma weapons, sir."

"Interesting," Chakotay murmured. Either Obviously this ship had faced combat with part of the Kommodan fleet. Federation weapons technology didn't leave that kind of damage.

"Helm, I want you to set a direct course for the new Borg ship, maximum velocity. Use the debris field for cover if you need to."

"Aye Sir." Kim and Carver responded in near-stereo.

Moments later, Voyager was dodging and weaving through space, avoiding debris and occasionally complete vessels as it took an evasive course toward the new Borg ship.

Chakotay smacked his com badge, an idea forming as his ship dodged and weaved its way through space.

"Engineering, Caerey here."

"Caerey," Chakotay acknowledge. "Would it be possible to transport a couple of torpedoes into the Borg ship?"

"I don't see why not," Caerey responded. "After all, we've transported people over there before. Realistically a torpedo would be a lot easier to beam over than a landing party."

"Get on it, and be ready to energise in ...."

"Three minutes," Kim responded to Chakotay's unspoken demand for information.

"I heard, Captain." Caerey said.

"Just have the things ready," Chakotay barked, mistrust of Caerey shaping his attitude toward the younger man.

Kim and Carver continued their rapid manoeuvres, Voyager's inertial dampeners occasionally strained by the violence of the twisting course that they had plotted. Fortunately, the larger Borg ship could not manoeuvre as easily. It was better able to shrug off impacts with the dead ships in the area, but its size and inertia still worked against it.

"One minute to transporter range," Kim announced.

"Engineering reports one torpedo ready, thirty seconds more and we'll have another." Kala reported from the Ops console.

Chakotay nodded, too busy watching the main viewer to acknowledge her verbally.

"Thirty seconds to transporter range,"

"Where should we beam the torpedoes, sir?" Kala asked.

"Get them as close to their main energy generation units as you can. Two won't be enough to take all of them out, but with secondary explosions we may be able to destroy the ship."

"Understood, Captain." Kala acknowledge, scanning the Borg cube to find the best places to put the weapons.

"Fifteen seconds to transporter range, we're now within weapons' range for both Borg ships," Harry Kim reported nervously.

As if his words were the signal that they had been waiting for, the Borg ships opened up with tractor beams and cutting weapons. Even though Voyager had moved beyond the centre of the rapidly collapsing debris field, there were still enough bits and pieces to cause a good deal of trouble for the Borg gunnery. However, Chakotay thought as the newly arrived Borg ship's tractor beam caught his ship, difficulty was something that the Borg were uncommonly good at circumventing.

"Five, four, three, two, one....energizing," Kala's words rang like the chimes of doom on voyager's silent bridge. How the Borg could be dumb enough not to defend against transporter weapons, Chakotay couldn't imagine. The incredible column of fire that suddenly burst forth from the side of the newly arrived Borg ship was proof enough that they were.

"Incredible," someone breathed, obviously unwilling to believe the fantastic effect of two photon torpedoes on their nearly indestructible enemy.

Chakotay didn't know who had expressed the thought, but as he watched secondary explosions turn the scarred and battered cube into a vaguely cube-shaped object with nearly fifty percent of its central mass blown out through a large hole on its side,he couldn't argue with it at all.

"Sir, the original ship is still in the area," Kala said moments before the rest of them were reminded of this by the the impact of a Borg cutting beam. A beam fired from the ship that they had so successfully attacked only moments before.

"Dammit!" Carver cried as his panel exploded infront of him. "What do we have to do kill that thing?"

"Get more torpedoes ready for transport," came Chakotay's matter-of-fact reply.

"On it, Captain," Kala barked as she began working her board, pushing the ship's crew to perform even further feats.

Harry Kim, who had been watching the viewscreen with the same awe that all of them felt, suddenly straightened in his seat, eyes widening in growing horror.

"Commander, There's a Kommodan ship moving in on our starboard flank!"

"Damn!" Chakotay exploded. He had almost forgotten there was a third ship. The fact that this ship had slipped by Winston's ship meant that the Kommodans were far better at fighting in space than any of them had thought. 

"Targeting phasers," Carver called from Tactical.

Chakotay's order to fire stuck in his throat when he saw the severely damaged Borg craft grab on to the Kommodan ship with another tractor beam. The Kommodans shields wouldn't protect them long and everyone knew it.

"Retarget phasers on that emitter."

Carver spared Chakotay only a surprised glance before following his orders.

"Fire!"

Voyager's phasers would never have cut through the cube-ship's defences had they not fluctuated at just that moment. A fluctuation matched by every system on both of the great vessels.

"Kommodan ship has been freed, Sir," Kala reported in a shocked voice as she began trying to assimilate the data pouring into Voyager's computers. Data that, she saw with some surprise, included a signal from the Kommodan ship. 

"Hail from the Kommodan ship, Sir."

Chakotay was as surprised as his young operations officer, but he didn't let it show as he gestured for her to put the aliens through to the main viewer.

"This is the Federation starship Voyager."

"I am Colonel Creed," the diminutive alien replied. "I thank you for rescuing my ship from its imminent destruction. A fate that it would have shared with our entire space-going fleet."

"What!" Chakotay gasped, shocked that the numerous Kommodan vessels that they had seen could have been destroyed.

"Much as I wish it were different Commander, I must tell you that everything that I have told you is true. When you escaped our trap, the Borg Queen ordered the destruction of our entire space fleet and all of the facilities that support it. Every ship, every orbital platform, all of them were destroyed by the Borg and nearly five hundred thousand were assimilated....Most on that ship. So, not only do I have you to thank for my own freedom, but also for the suffering that you ended for so many that I knew before this sad day."

"I understand," Chakotay said softly, knowing that the alien commander would have been far happier had Kathryn and the others been assimilated, sparing his people in the process.

"I believe that you do," Creed replied, not needing to say that much as he wished that things could have been different for his people, death was by far the best thing that they could have hoped for...given current circumstances.

"Captain, I think that you should have a look at this."

"What!" Chakotay demanded, furious that Kala would have interrupted his discussion with the alien commander.

"This." she said as the Kommodan face on the viewer was replaced by the almost incredible sight of the two Borg ships fighting each other. One was badly damaged, the other, totally unscathed.

"Wow," Harry Kim said from the his station. "I never thought that I'd get to see that."

Chakotay had to admit that he couldn't have come up with this scenario either. The question was, should they intervene or not? If so, on which side or should they just try to cause as much trouble as they could? The decision was taken out of Chakotay's hands by Creed, who was determined to avenge his people's losses.

"Kommodans vectoring for the intact cube," Kala reported just as a salvo of plasma bolts slashed through space.

"Moderate damage to Borg ship," she reported, obviously surprised by what she had seen.

"Any guess as to why?"

"Borg defence fields seem to be fluctuating, Sir."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Captain."

"Well, get on it and tell me when you know something." Chakotay snapped, knowing as he did that Kala didn't deserve his anger.

"Aye, Sir." she replied, unable to hide the pain that his words had caused. Events on screen retook center stage, denying Chakotay the chance to apologise for his unreasoning harshness.

As everyone watched in mute fascination, the Borg ships began blasting away at each other, the Kommodan ship caught between them. Though Crael tried hard, it was immediately obvious to Voyager's crew that he could not save his ship. The only question was which of the Borg craft would manage to capture it. Their unasked questions were answered far too quickly as the Borg quickly demonstrated their own abilities to accommodate enemy's.

The Kommodans have been caught again by the damaged cube, Carver observed. Seem determined to be destroyed. Target the emitter, Sir?

Chakotay nodded an agreement, but was just as quickly reminded by Kala that Voyager was in just as much danger.

We've been caught, she called, just as the ship rocked violently from a phasor blast from the cube. More sparks and smoke issued from consoles and the ship creaked ominously.

Shields are down! She added. Rerouting emergency power to shields.

Warp power is down, Kim added.

They waited for the next shot.

They missed! Carver shouted in jubilation as the beam lanced wide. They've dropped the beam as well! 

Trailing a rapidly increasing amont of wreckage, the critically damaged cube holding the Kommodan ship began spinning rapidly. The Kommodan vessel helplessly spinning with it, like a bolo shot being prepared for launch. They watched helplessly, no longer able to target the emitter and come to the defence of the Kommodans, whose vessel was slowly disintegrating under the terrible centrifugal force under which it its structure slowly collapsed.

When the damaged Borg ship could spin no faster, it suddenly switched off its few remaining tractor beams, hurling the Kommodan ship at several percent of the sped of light straight into its formerly healthier opponent whose equally unreliable defences could not withstand the impact of more than half a million tons of metal and other material flung at it in this way. Doubtless, the failure of the Kommodan antimatter containment system contributed notably to the shattering explosion that utterly demolished a formerly imposing--if damaged--Borg cube.

They are firing again! Kala added in the sudden confusion. 

Voyager rocked violently.

Light damage, there was no power in the shot.

It's almost as if they aren't sure what they want to do! Kim voiced everybody's thoughts for them.

Another phasor beam shot out, it whisked harmlessly away.

What the hell is going on? Chakotay exclaimed in exasperation. The enemy behaving erratically was more alarming than facing one that knew what they were doing.

Harry, back us back into the debris, Chakotay ordered coming to a decision. They must be upto something, I want to know what it is. Carver, fire at will to cover our withdrawl.

  


I have the sensors on line, Ma'am, Miller reported

Ensign Abbott started at the sudden intrusion. She had been in her own silent world of misery and loneliness for some minutes, as Miller had gone about his business trying to regain control of as much of the Argonaut as possible.

How is Lieutenant Paris? She asked hopefully.

Still out cold, Ma'am, he answered apologetically. I will need physical help to bring impulse on line, Ma'am. There are a number of manifolds in Engineering that need to be replaced.

Abbott nodded slowly in understanding, the corporal was going to push her again. Can you find Voyager? She asked.

She's having a bit of a blowup with a couple of cubes, Miller described a moment later. She's lost shields and warp but otherwise ain't too badly hurt. There is a Kommodan ship out there as well, Ma'am. Sorry, Ma'am.

She smiled weakly at the apology, they had failed to protect Voyager from the Kommodan fleet in its entirety. She wondered if the Corporal took it as great a personal failure as his Commanding Officer would. 

She was quickly appraised of his opinion by his next words. If you would go to engineering, we can make amends and take those little buggers out, Miss?

Ensign Abbott would have found the relays Miller wanted replaced without his guidance. The access cover had been blown clean across engineering by the blast from the overload.

This is going to take time, she sighed, looking carefully at the blackened remains.

We can short the terminals, declared Miller. I can control the power good enough without 

she asked cautiously. If we get hit then there will be no safety cut outs.

I won't need no safety cut outs, Miller snapped, irritation showing in the voice.

Abbott looked up with real alarm. You're going to ram them. Aren't you?

Gotta go sometime, Miss. There is a shuttle in a serviceable condition for you and the others.

There must be another way! Abbott appealed.

Miller said nothing, if his holo-emitter had been working he would have shrugged the question off.

She sat and thought for a moment. Argonaut was too badly damaged to do more in battle, it was now nothing more than a lifeboat for two seriously injured crew, one of whom would not recover in their current state, herself and a holographic corporal. It would be a lonely place. She did not think she could stand that again, not after the last time. 

Grimly she set about the rewiring Miller demanded.

As she worked a germ of an idea came to her. Corporal Miller, can you identify the power source for the anomaly? She asked.

There was an interminable silence before he replied. Aye, Ma'am. Dunno what is powering it though. Tain't normal anti-matter.

Could we get close enough to use the self-destruct and blow it up?

I don't have access to the self-destruct system, Miss. It requires manual over-ride. I think Captain Bennett, the ships original Captain, modified the system.

I can probably handle that, Abbott volunteered. Get us in contact with Voyager.

Aye, Ma'am!

There was silence for ten minutes then Miller suddenly exploded, Gordon, bleedin' Bennett! Would you Adam and Eve it!

Abbott looked up sharply, she did not have a clue what the hologram actually meant, but the tone was enough to portray a certain level of shock. 

Sorry, Ma'am, he responded recovering from his own surprise. The Borg have taken out one of their own. Used the Kommodan ship like one of them bolass things the spicks use!

Have you got comms back with Voyager? Abbott asked nervously, blanching at the image of the two ships colliding in her mind.

As soon as you're ready, Miss, he agreed.

I'm ready now. Can you transport B'Elanna to the shuttle? Then there is another little mod' I would like help with.

  


Ensign Abbott wriggled, trying to make herself comfortable in the Argonaut's command chair, it felt much too large for her slight frame, or was her tiny body too small for the post? She wondered. Either way, appearances would be important, if she were to persuade Commander Chakotay she could do what she was going to propose. He would have to think she was confident and she knew she would not be able to do that dancing foot to foot with nerves. That only left her hands. She gripped the arms tightly.

You can join Lieutenant Paris in the shuttle, Ma'am? Miller offered quietly. I'm pretty sure I can get there and I'm less than certain Voyager will find the modified torpedoes?

If you can't then we will be dead anyhow! Abbott snapped with the last of her courage. Put Voyager on before I lose what courage I've got.

Chakotay's worried features appeared upon the screen. Behind him Llinos Abbott could see several terminals billowing smoke and fire. The Borg had obviously found them again as they played chase through the rotting carcasses of dead ships.

It's good to see you are alive and well, Ensign, Chakotay opened. We are having a spot of trouble, he waved his arm expansively. I suggest you try and get out, make what repairs you can and follow the direction of the Captain.

Can't do that, Abbott breathed. I'm on my own with Corporal Miller. We put Lieutenant Paris and Ensign Winston in a shuttle. Miller has programmed it to head out of the anomaly. We launched it ten minutes ago. Winston will die if you can't catch them.

Chakotay made to interrupt her, but Abbott lumbered on, her lip quivering with the control. Please Sir. We think we can take out the Borg. But we need help.

There was a pause as Chakotay glanced at Tactical for confirmation. What weapons do you have, Ensign? Chakotay reasoned gently. You have more torpedoes than we do. But yours won't dent the cube, even in its damaged condition. You haven't the power to fire your phasors, there is no Warp power or shields.

I have Argonaut and Corporal Miller, Abbott responded petulantly. We are going to blow the anomaly up!

Chakotay's face puckered in horror at the implication of Abbott's suggestion, "You can't.." He started to be immediately interrupted.

"Please, Sir!" Abbott was now imploring. "I don't want to be the only survivor if Voyager is lost and I can't repair this ship on my own!"

On Voyager's bridge Chakotay looked around desperately for any form of help from the others. There was none, all were engrossing themselves in their displays, all too aware of what the outcome was likely to be, which ever solution was taken. Finally he looked back at Abbott and took in the dishevelled and pale figure sat in the Captains chair. He could even see how white her knuckles were as they gripped the arms. How small she looked, he decided, not only to occupy the chair, but to carry out the action she was proposing. 

"What do you need us to do?" He sighed.

"You have to lure the cube near enough to the centre to be affected by the explosion," Abbott explained, her voice now so quiet he had to strain to hear. "Corporal Miller reckons he can manage half impulse, but it won't be enough to outrun them and we can barely manoeuvre. We should have a fully charged phasor bank and a couple of torpedoes to keep them interested, if you can get them within 100 kilometres?"

"Do your plans include something for escape?" Chakotay asked, his voice now very gentle.

Ensign Abbott nodded. "I've put a life support set in a torpedo. If there is time, I'll use that as a warp powered escape pod. Corporal Miller has arranged the launch so that the acceleration doesn't kill me."

"And Miller?"

"Gotta remain until the ship explodes, Sir," Millers voice cut in. "Can't get out the Doctors emitter is broke."

"Give me a few minutes to think?" Chakotay found it was his turn to allow a note of pleading to enter his voice.

"We'll set course for the centre," Abbott announced. "It will take us thirty minutes anyhow."

He face cut out. For an instant they were left with the distressing sight of the mortally injured Argonaut slowly turning about, setting course, before Carver snapped the view screen back to the Borg cube with a curt, "We've been spotted again, Sir." 

"They've fixed their targeting," he added un-necessarily as a beam slammed into Voyager and he was showered by more sparks. "Hull breach deck four."

Chakotay came to a decision. It was not an easy decision, but the only one available. The Borg cube in its damaged state was still a match for Voyager and she was slowly being taken apart.

"Take us on a course that will bring us within range of Argonaut," he announced heavily.

"Chakotay to Argonaut."

Llinos Abbott's face appeared upon the view screen as she looked up apologetically. "I'm trying to repair the holo-emitter," she gabbled apologetically. "I'm hoping to see somebody human once more."

"Keep your comms open and we can talk?" Chakotay offered immediately, swallowing hard on something that had got caught in his throat. "I'm bringing Voyager in as you asked. Just make sure you reach that escape pod."

"I'll try Commander!" She promised. A brave little smile lit her face. She would be an attractive woman if she smiled more often, Chakotay decided in passing as she bent again, seemingly determined to keep working on the small mobile emitter.

"Engineering I am going to want warp at a moments notice. When will it be ready?"

"Ten minutes, Sir. Provided we don't get hit again," Joe Caerey hissed. He was not enjoying himself as much now. A full third of his engineering team were now in sickbay, from injuries sustained as they battled with the incessant jury repairs to keep power flowing. Another quarter were linked with the damage control teams as they struggled with the evermore threatening damage to the ship. Now desperately short staffed he was scurrying between consoles screaming at individuals to get them working on the next priority.

Kim tried his best to navigate between the activities of their Borg foe and the rubble, though it was not enough, the ship shuddered under repeated blows. Three blows in quick succession rendered the ship immobile and defenceless.

"Engineering, I need power!" Chakotay hissed

"I'm working on it," Caerey's voice snapped back. "I need more crew! I've only got four left on their feet!"

Chakotay grimaced, Caerey had reason to snap. "I'll find you some more," he promised quickly.

"Harry, go down to Sickbay and the Mess, pick up anybody in the category of walking wounded. Take them to Engineering. No matter what the Doctor says."

"We haven't time. They are closing in!" Kim screamed, waving at the image of the Borg cube on the view screen.

"Do It!"

With a glare at the Commander, Kim rose slowly and strode to the lift.

  


"I think I can recharge two of the phasor banks, Ma'am?" Corporal Miller offered softly to Ensign Abbott as she watched in horrified silence as Voyager was systematically struck by Borg weapons.

"We can take the heat off Voyager?"

"But if we do we might not reach our detonation point," Abbott pleaded.

"Nor will Voyager, Ma'am," Miller observed politely.

She nodded absently in agreement. "Then we had better go then," she added, remembering that the hologram could not see her. "I'll take the conn if you can handle weapons and power?"

Miller coughed nervously. "Power is not a problem," Miller admitted carefully. "We haven't got any control over it. It is either there or not." 

"But you said.." Abbott protested.

"I said I could handle it," Miller admitted. "I didn't say there was no control because, well, it didn't seem important to you at the time," he added hurriedly.

"So all we have is directional control?" Abbott asked carefully, wishing fervently she had got a better report from the Corporal in the first place.

"Ma'am." 

She sighed deeply and took her seat at the pilots console. Where she discovered that the Corporal had been less than honest there as well. The ship could turn left, go down or forward.

She sighed again. Corporal Miller had done an excellent job on giving her hope and courage. But to do it he had left her not knowing half of their real situation.

She prodded the controls again, rolling Argonaut onto course.

  


The Borg cube seemed to have lost interest in Voyager. From the bridge of Voyager they had watched the giant cube spin gently infront of them in mystification. For nearly twenty minutes it had sat there neither firing at them or beaming drones aboard.

"I don't think they have control, Sir?" Ensign Kala ventured. For the entire time she had been bombarding the cube with every sensor system that still worked, trying to find a chink or a reason for its sudden reticence. Now she was scanning sub-space trying to pick up the tell-tale signs of Borg transmissions. "In fact, I don't think anybody is controlling it. I can't find any long range Borg signals."

"You mean they've just died?" Chakotay demanded incredulously, looking over his shoulder.

"No, Sir!" She responded guardedly. "The drones seem to be perfectly healthy and they are scanning us periodically. It's just that they aren't talking to the Collective. It's as if they know they are supposed to be after us, but don't know what to do with us, now we are there for the taking?"

"Engineering to Bridge. Impulse is back on line," Caerey's voice interrupted the conversation. "Working on shields."

"Back us away," Chakotay issued the order quickly. "We'll try and sneak away while they are wondering."

"They are targeting," Carver warned as Kim applied power.

"All stop!" Chakotay demanded as quickly bringing things to a halt again. 

There was now a situation of impasse. If Voyager moved, or, he guessed, showed a build up of weapons the Borg would undoubtedly fire on Voyager again. If she lay 'dead' then they would be ignored.

"Perhaps the Colonel has gotten to the Unimatrix?" Carver offered hopefully. 

In a galaxy of possible solutions, it was extreme. But just possibly the only one with any grain of sense to it Chakotay had to agree. "It doesn't help us though," he pointed out.

"Argonaut is approaching," Kala prompted. "Direct intercept course with the cube."

"Tactical!" Chakotay snapped. 

"Llinoss what are you doing?" He demanded as the crippled ship appeared upon the view screen, showing her smashed broadside to Voyager.

There was no reply.

"She will pass between us and the cube, Sir," Carver observed. "We may be able to back away when she does?"

"She will also be blown to pieces!" Chakotay snapped. "Get a transport lock on Abbott."

"Can't, Sir," Ensign Kala responded. "Transporters are non-functional."

They were left as helpless bystanders as the Argonaut sailed closer. The Borg cube seemed to ignore the ship. Until..

At almost point blank range, two of Argonauts phaser banks fired, straight through the hole that marked the side of the giant cube. At the same time four torpedoes lanced out of her stern tubes, heading for the same target. Slowly she turned and headed for the centre of the anomaly again as explosions ripped through the cube. Finally a second phaser beam lanced out. It struck an undamaged side and had little power, but it obviously had the effect that the crew aboard Argonaut expected. The cube started to follow and fire at them. Two beams lanced out, both missed by a narrow margin.

"Argonaut brought down their targeting," Carver blurted. "Severe power fluctuations. Secondary explosions on multiple decks."

"But it is still not dead," Chakotay hissed as another weak beam shot out.

  


Weak beam or not, it was more than Argonauts weakened defences could stand. Upon the bridge Abbott was showered by sparks as she wrestled with her rapidly diminishing controls.

"New breaches decks 14 to 18," Miller reported dispassionately. "I've lost phasers and we are venting plasma."

"I think it is time you left, Ma'am," he added. "There is nothing left for you to do."

"Not without you, Corporal," she refuted. "I couldn't have done this without your help. The emitter is repaired, so we go together!"

The ship rocked again. "Lost a pylon, the one venting plasma," Miller reported with a little satisfaction, Argonaut was slightly less likely to explode. "Three hundred klicks to target. I think we can abandon ship now, Ma'am. I can't do anything either."

"Come on then," Abbott sighed, getting up and staggering for the lift as the ship was again rocked.

It was a desperate race as she staggered down corridors, heading for the torpedo room and her makeshift escape pod. Every few minutes the ship was rocked as it was time and again targeted by the cube that was chasing. Twice her way was blocked as massive girders from the ships structure crashed through the ceiling in front of her, making her scream in terror. Numbed with terror, she barely noticed when she arrived, simply accepting the Corporals commands as he prepared her for launch.

Despite the Corporals changes in the launch sequence for her torpedo life pod, the launch was still horrific. Her feet felt as if they would be driven through her brain as it accelerated hard from the tube and she screamed again, uncontrollably until blackness descended upon her.

  


"Get after that torpedo!" Chakotay fairly screamed as they saw the small ball of light appear from the back of Argonaut and swerve away. "Where are the transporters?"

Behind them Argonaut detonated as tonnes of antimatter met matter in an uncontrolled confluence. It was silent and dark explosion that bloomed further and brighter as nearby derelicts were caught in the influence and exploded in a fabulous display of pyrotechnics. The Borg cube following the Argonaut so closely was the first. The bloom extended towards the centre, finally catching the small planetoid that formed the centre. 

It blew with the finality of the end of existence, the shockwaves travelling at the speed of light, not just in the physical universe, but through sub-space. Voyager travelling on the thresh hold of both was struck by both. 

"Don't lose that torpedo!" Chakotay demanded again as Voyager bucked, twisted and span in the gravitational influences.

For thirty seconds she was tossed and turned like a leaf, then all was silent again.

"I've got the torpedo, Sir!" Carver shook of his own alarm, then assured the commander. "Engine has died. I can tractor it into the shuttle bay. Damage reports coming in."

Chakotay allowed himself a grateful smile at the outwardly calm ensign. "Do it!" He said simply, "then get after the shuttle Argonaut launched."

Chakotay hotfooted it to the shuttle bay as soon as Carver announced the torpedo was entering, fearful of what he would find. The shocks that had hit Voyager had done damage to the structure of the ship. The effects on the torpedo survival pod could well have been catastrophic.

"She is alive, Commander," Lieutenant Caerey informed him. "Just about. She had this in her hand."

Silently he handed Chakotay the doctors holo-emitter. "Looks as though it is working. The Doc 'll be pleased. I'll get her moved upto sickbay."

Chakotay turned the emitter over, examining it carefully. "Are you in there Corporal?" he asked, putting it onto a console.

"Nah! Not anymore!," Corporal Millers voice almost crowed over the ships comms. "To bloody cramped in there. Where to now, Sir?"

Chakotay found his depression lift at the cheerful cockney banter. "I don't know where Starfleet regulations go in giving medals to holograms," he muttered. "But you and Abbott deserve one."

"Perhaps the Colonel will give me me laurels?" Miller suggested hopefully. "Ain't never done nothing to qualify before."

"Okay, perhaps he will. Now tell me why the anomaly went with such a bang?"

"Dunno, Sir. Miss Abbott, she's a bright lady, Sir, she thought that it might be powered by a black hole of somesort, Sir," Miller babbled. "We sort of gave it indigestion, Sir! Fed it more than it could cope with, Sir!"

"I'll bounce that at astro-physics see if that makes sense," Chakotay promised. "Now do something useful and find the Argonauts shuttle?"

"Sir!"

  


B'Elanna and Winston were found, with Millers help, in their wrecked shuttle, some forty minutes later. They were beamed quickly into sickbay and rapidly treated by the doctor.

"B'Elanna had come around and was laying quietly beside Llinoss Abbott as the ensign tried to explain her actions to her slightly cynical boss. 

"And you thought it all up on your own, Ensign?" She enquired with a little incredulation.

"Not all of it," Abbott admitted. "Corporal Miller offered some and he made me do things I would never thought I was capable of."

"And a good job he did of it," Chakotay commented brightly as he sat between the two of them. "Nearly as good as the Ensign in charge of the landing party. I've just finished his debriefing." 

"He has some very choice words to say about you, Ensign," he added. "I am going to leave them in the log for the Captain to decide upon."

"How about Tom and the Captain?" B'Elanna asked quickly.

"We picked up a signal from the Valoria ten minutes ago," Chakotay agreed. "Tom and Vorik are safe. Seems the Colonel decided to go to war and Kathryn and Tuvok went with him. It adds a little more credence to Carvers suggestion that the Colonel may have done them some damage. We'll pick them up, when we have dropped off our prisoners. Komos was hit badly by the shocks from the anomaly. We don't know what is left for them, but we will have to take them back. Just as soon as the ship is repaired enough to get there."

"I'm on it," B'Elanna muttered struggling up.

"You will wait at least six hours," the Doctor announced, bustling up. "Winston is out of danger and will be up and about in a week. Ensign Abbott is fit and ready for action, though there may be a few after effects after being a hero, like an inflated head?"

"I don't want to be a hero," Abbott flustered, going bright red. "I was terrified I was going to lose everything again. It didn't seem to matter then!"

"I know the feeling," Chakotay agreed, getting up and offering a hand to the young ensign, then wrapping a protective arm around her as she staggered. "I will need to debrief you so we will do that later. Until then take it easy?"

  


  


  


  


Sat 14/Apr 01

Tue 17/Jul 01

Sat 14/Jul 01

23299

Revision 31

   [1]: mailto:story@rgower.f9.co.uk



	7. Home Sweet Home

1-26 Home Sweet Home Home Sweet Home 

_Continued from Final Conflict_

_Desperately short of supplies and suffering from shipwide system failures, Captain Janeway and her team are forced to abandon their stolen Borg transport and take refuge on a primitive planet. Seven of Nine becomes a Goddess and they find that they may not have been as successful as they first thought._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The story line and the Colonel are my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail [story@rgower.plus.com][1]._

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start with The Colonel._

_This story is rated PG13_

_©R Gower 2001_

  


I wish you would cheer up a little, Colonel! Captain Janeway chided hopefully. Almost single-handed you've destroyed the greatest threat to the Galaxy. You should be dancing in the corridors, instead you wander around as if we had lost!

She, the Colonel, Tuvok and Seven of Nine had been aboard their stolen Borg scout ship for four days, trying to retrace their route and catch up with Voyager and the Colonel's attitude for those four days would have lead anybody who did not know better that they had indeed lost to the Borg. The Captain had decided to follow the pattern of events that she had established aboard Voyager and had commenced a daily meeting for everybody to voice their opinions openly, so that they could all learn of their problems. This was the first meeting and she was obliging by being the first to speak.

Permission to speak, Ma'am? The Colonel responded quickly.

He had automatically handed control of their fate back to her, as soon as he was sure that the Unimatrix had been destroyed and had taken the role of simple Quartermaster and crewman just as soon as Tuvok had awakened the day before, or as close as the Colonel would ever be. He was confirming that subordinate role, even now, by asking for permission to speak in an open discussion.

Captain Kathryn Janeway, bold commander of a Federation Star Ship, was none too sure she deserved the post of commander of their small vessel, why he had given it to her, why she had accepted it, or even if she should be grateful. Especially after her limited success aboard the Unimatrix when compared to the Colonels own endeavours that had led to its destruction.

She smiled. How can I ever refuse?

Your prerogative, Ma'am, the Colonel assured her.

Carry on, Colonel! She almost laughed at his deference to her.

I had valuable help, the Colonel pointed out. But before we all go awarding ourselves Victoria Crosses, it should be noted we haven't destroyed the Borg. All we've done is put a dent in their plans. There are other Unimatrices and they will pick the baton up sooner or later. As for being happy. I will be, when we get back to Voyager. Until then we haven't won, it's a draw. Besides the Captain isn't dancing in the aisles either!

I think I know what you mean, the Captain admitted. It did feel like an anti-climax. I wish I knew why?

Because we were there, the Colonel offered sagely. The scale passed us by, quite normal. I think we may need to do some serious thinking though, Ma'am?

Go on! She prompted in resignation.

Our food and water supplies can't last as far as Komos, Ma'am, the Colonel stated. I lost my pack on the Unimatrix, so the only food we have is what was left in my webbing. Even if we rationed ourselves to a Tommy a day we only have food for another six or seven days. This ship isn't able to replicate the required food and it is struggling to keep up with water as well.

It was disturbing news. They had eked out an existence with the ration pack that was in the Colonel's voluminous webbing for the four days they had been aboard. That was now finished and the last meal had been one of the Colonel's Tommies', a simple pancake of flour, water, yeast extract and salt. They might supply the nutrients required to allow people to march and fill stomachs, but they were not food'. Whilst not as tasteless as a ration pack, too salty for that distinction, they were very much a supplement of last resort. After her first taste the Captain thought she had a good handle on why the Colonel liked Neelix's food. On a scale of 1 to 10 of quality, Neelix ranked about 3. Tommies came at least four points below and the Colonel had lived on them, sometimes for weeks at a time.

The Captain queried.

Seven of Nine looked up. She was showing signs of strain, the last four days had been busy ones for her. She was the only person aboard who had any idea of how to control the Borg scout ship they were on and whilst she had been able to teach the Captain the basics of how to monitor the crafts systems and progress, the Captain was a long way from being able to control it.

Borg do not consume food as nutrients, Seven pointed out. It is unnecessary for the ship to produce food and I do not have the abilities to reprogram the replication system to the level required. It was a gauling admission for her to make. 

Nor do the Borg have the same requirements for fluid consumption, she continued. The Colonel has requested at least two litres per day per person. That is 120% the nominal capacity of the ships replication system. It is placing strain upon the replicators.

Can't we survive on less? The Captain switched her attention to the Colonel again.

No, Ma'am! He said pointedly. The Borg don't sweat and this ship runs hot. Any less and there is a real danger to health from dehydration.

There are other problems, Seven of Nine interrupted.

Go on! The Captain prompted with a sigh.

The ship is suffering system failures due to the lack of contact with the Collective and the requirement to maintain services not normally required by the Borg, especially the environmental and power systems. I am unable to maintain control of all the systems within satisfactory tolerances, Seven admitted.

How serious is it?

I am uncertain. The vessel was docked with the Unimatrix for extensive repair to the power and distribution systems, after receiving damage beyond the capabilities of the crew and regeneration systems to recover. That is also the reason why the crew were not present. All systems are equipped with fail-safe mechanisms, they are normally linked with the Vehniculum aboard the ship. In our current state they are unable to operate for an extended period without manual adjustment. We have had to drop from Transwarp due to the system overloads and are progressing at Warp 7, weapons are also inoperable.

The Captain thought for a few moments. I can't see Chakotay not coming to look for us, that will shorten our journey, she said at last. But we don't know how soon he will be able to track us. Nor will he know we are aboard this scout ship. Tuvok, can you modify a Borg transponder as a beacon for Voyager to follow?

Tuvok agreed. However such a beacon might also be intercepted by others and we have no defences.

We will have to take the risk, the Captain announced. Seven, can you find a planet where we may be able to gain supplies? I don't want to eat any more of those Tommies', otherwise I'll end up as cynical as the Colonel!

There is a primitive planet within two days voyage. It is not significantly off of our course, Seven agreed.

Put us on course, then go and rest. You look absolutely drained, The Captain demanded

She looked speculatively at the Colonel, as if challenging him to offer a magical alternative she had missed.

I'll tuck Mrs Nine in, Ma'am. Then see what I can find to hold water? he offered getting up.

Captain Janeway watched him march away with mixed feelings. There were times that the Colonel seemed to be testing those around him. She had a feeling he was testing her. Seven of Nines response to her question seemed too immediate for it not to have been planned. She wondered if she had passed the test, it seemed important.

  


What can you tell us about the planet, Seven? Captain Janeway asked curiously as they crowded around the small Borg view screen thirty hours later.

From the screen the most notable thing were the clouds, ranging from off-white to dark black, with occasional flashes from lightening making them glow eerily. Where there was a break in the cloud cover, the planet looked a lush green and brown. But it still did not look like a hospitable planet, the Captain decided.

The planet is heavily forested, Seven described. Atmosphere is comparatively high in Carbon Dioxide compared to Earth specifications. It makes it susceptible to heavy rainfalls and maintains a high ambient temperature in the region of 30 Celsius. There was an indigenous race, species 08, the Calhards, population approximately 150,000.

An early Borg conquest? Tuvok suggested.

Affirmative. The race was believed extinct, Seven continued, calmly. However there was no significant change to the environment for other indigenous creatures.

Can we track anybody we send down? the Captain questioned.

I can track the Colonel's implant. Tracking others will be difficult, we have no form of mobile communications, Seven announced.

I don't like sending people on their own on an Away Mission, but it looks as though I have no choice, the Captain mused.

How much time will you need to obtain sufficient supplies, Colonel? she asked, accepting the inevitable, she was going to have to rely upon the Colonel's practical experience.

I'll need a couple of hours to look around, before I can say, Ma'am, he opined. After that it will depend upon what I can find, or catch.

She nodded her acceptance of the simple statement. Can you manage on your own? 

There was concern in the question. It was answered with a grin from the Colonel. You are proposing to put the primitive thug, that destroyed the capital of an advanced race, on to a primitive planet. What was the question again, Ma'am?

She grinned at the light hearted bravado. Let me put it another way, Colonel. Can you find food that we can eat?

He shrugged. If it is similar to the things I've seen, then yes, Ma'am. If not it will take longer and we will have to experiment a little. But if Mrs Nine and the Commander can test the items I find, it needn't hurt?

Okay. But keep your channel to Seven of Nine open. If there is any trouble she can pull you out immediately.

  


Twenty minutes later the Colonel, with half a dozen assorted containers, materialised in a small clearing carefully chosen as being rich both in animal and plant life as well as providing the essential water, but surrounded by thick brambles. 

Ouch! Dam and bugger! He cursed mildly as he thrust himself through the thorns to gain the trees beyond.

_There was a problem?_ He heard Seven of Nine challenge over their private link.

No, duck. I frequently dive through brambles for the fun of it, he thought back. But if you could move your landing point a 15 yards in any direction, I will be grateful?

_Affirmative._

From there he looked around in the curious half light of a tropical jungle. 

His landing site was a curious mixture of thick bushes, like the ones he had landed amidst, and trees. The ground was a thick layer of leaf litter that effectively prevented undergrowth. Most of the trees appeared to be not unlike those he was familiar with in the jungles of earth, their scaly bark covered in green and yellow moss. A range of creepers drooped down from their lower branches about ten feet above his head. Much further above his head he could hear the chattering of birds and other creatures, none of which he recognised. It all went with the sticky humidity, that had him sweating as he stood there.

Other sounds that reached his ears were the constant drip of water from the trees above. Whilst it did not seem to be actually raining, there must have been rain recently, he reasoned. Another small tinkling sound had him moving slowly from where he stood, studying the ground intently, searching for the water that Seven of Nine had declared was there from her scans.

He almost missed it, but from beneath an solitary stone there was a trickle of water emerging in a small spring. Cautiously he tasted it. It seemed a little peaty, but otherwise sound. It was a start, he would be able to send water up. But finding food was going to require a lot more work.

Carefully he dug the first of his containers into the soft earth and channelled the trickle of water into it. It was going to take sometime to fill, so he started to explore a little further afield. He found a range of fungi that looked as if they might be suitable, so he carefully gathered those as well, along with a few nuts he found upon the floor and berries that were growing upon his landing site. But the pickings were at best poor. The fungus would barely last them a day, if they proved edible and he was never certain about mushrooms.

Trapping animal life might have to wait until nightfall, but that would be at least seven hours away.

I think we may have drawn a blank here, he passed his thoughts on to the waiting Seven of Nine. I am filling a water container and have half filled another with possible food. But finding anything more suitable is going to take too long.

_I shall transport you back_, Seven of Nine agreed.

He felt the fuzz of the transporter beam take him away.

  


Permission to come aboard, Ma'am? the Colonel announced as he reappeared aboard the ship, sub-consciously checking that he was still in one piece after the transfer. Like almost everything about this time he still found the transporter difficult to totally rely upon.

the Captain breezed, hiding her disappointment that the Colonel had found so little during his four hours on the planet.

Tuvok, examine the stuff the Colonel did find. Then we can decide what to do next.

Tuvok and Seven of Nine had been busy, the Colonel noticed. Between them they had managed to construct some form of tricorder using Borg components and were now examining the meagre supplies he had brought up.

Captain, we are able to eat the nuts and about half of the fungi, Tuvok reported fifteen minutes later. The water we can drink.

Put me back down, Ma'am, the Colonel urged, pained by his own sense of failure. A different place will have different foliage. Where I went the first time had plenty of food, but most of it was in the tops of the trees and I'm not Tarzan. Somewhere more open may be easier?

Seven, can you identify a better position to place the Colonel?

I am uncertain. The planet is heavily forested. I will carry out further scans. 

Seven of Nine turned to a control console and plugged herself in to gain better control of the ships sensors. She had almost completed her scans when the lights dipped.

There has been a failure in the ships power conversion system, Seven announced quickly, breaking her link. I will attempt a repair.

Tuvok, help her! The Captain demanded immediately.

Seven of Nine and Tuvok left, leaving Captain Janeway and the Colonel to sit quietly to await the return of the systems.

Why did you give command to me when we left the Unimatrix? Are you testing me again, Colonel? She asked quietly as the silence gathered.

He questioned in surprise.

I want to know! She demanded uncomfortably.

No, Ma'am! He refuted stubbornly. You are the commander of the ship and our destiny. It is my privilege to serve you. I would never test your authority aboard your ship. If I give an impression otherwise I apologise unreservedly.

In the darkness she smiled. You often give the impression that you are looking over my shoulder, watching me, she explained quietly. I'm never quite certain what you are judging me for.

I often do, he admitted. I watch the Captain, because it is where I can learn the most about the strange home I find myself in and the stranger people I find myself living with. Sometimes I watch the Captain in concern, because of the strains she puts upon herself. But there is no judgement involved, Ma'am.

A shudder and explosion ran through the ship, interrupting further conversation. It had the Colonel leaping to his feet before the last echoes died away and running in the direction Seven of Nine and Tuvok had taken. The Captain sat non-plussed for a moment, before scrabbling to her feet and chasing after the Colonel.

He stopped her at the entrance into the generator room, as the heat hit him.

What are you waiting for? The Captain demanded trying to push him out the way.

He was as mobile as a rock. 

With respect, Ma'am. I think you may be better placed outside? Whatever went pop is not going to leave anything pretty.

We go together. You are going to need help! The Captain insisted, still trying to pass him.

Very good, Ma'am!

Together they entered the small room. The full force of the heat hit them as they entered, almost throwing them back and scorched their lungs as they tried to breath. A glimpse was all they needed to spot a mound in the centre of the room and they struggled towards it, to find Tuvok laying prone over Seven of Nine.

In one movement the Colonel leaned forward and grabbed both by the arms and started to drag them out the room. The Captain seeing him pull them to safety with some ease, risked another look around.

She could see a gaping hole in a power conduit. It and the hole glowed with the heat from the fire within. It told its own story. The power conduit had overloaded and exploded. It was a freak event anywhere and potentially disastrous. She could see a control panel nearby so she struggled towards it, trying hard to remember what Seven of Nine had tried to teach her about how Borg circular patterns of Borg controls operated the systems.

For a moment she glared at the panel, then stabbed at a pad and was rewarded by the glow fading. Satisfied the immediate problem was subsiding she turned and staggered after the Colonel.

She found him back in the main control centre, gently mopping the faces of Seven of Nine and Tuvok. Silently he handed her another cloth to wipe hers with.

How are they? she asked huskily.

Mrs Nine is a little scorched, Ma'am. She will be okay in an hour or so, after her probes have done their job, he opined quietly. Commander Tuvok I don't know about. I think he took almost all the blast. There are deep wounds in his back and his left leg is a mess. I've bound what I can but I've nothing to treat him with here.

I can't get us to the surface, the Captain pointed out crouching beside Tuvok. And I don't want to abandon our transport so easily. How quickly can you wake Seven?

I suppose she might wake a little quicker in the alcove? the Colonel suggested. If you could activate it for me while I get her in place?

The Captain nodded and led them to the Alcove Seven had programmed to match her requirements.

Satisfied that Seven of Nine was satisfactorily in its supernatural grasp, the Colonel took the Captains arm and led her away.

Permission to speak, Ma'am? he asked urgently.

You are going to anyway, the Captain sighed.

If you order me not to, then no, Ma'am.

I already know what you are going to say, Colonel. You think the ship is lost and we need to get to the planet, she prophesied.

If you already know what I was going to say then you are of the same opinion, Ma'am, he suggested. If this was Voyager with her full complement of crew, the damage could probably be repaired. As it is we have Mrs Nine. The ship has a severe problem with power, otherwise the lights would not be flickering like they are. She can't cope on her own and we will be merely concerned bystanders, because neither of us know enough about the ship or its workings to act independently, he explained urgently.

The Captain sighed, I can't get us off the ship, she admitted. I've no idea how that part of the ship works.

At least if we prepare now we might be able to rescue a few items that will be of use to us? He offered.

Like what? she snapped.

The Commanders transponder? Perhaps the core of the transwarp drive? Mrs Nine told me that you have stolen and used one before? The Colonel suggested.

You think Voyager will find us on this planet? She challenged.

It's a lot bigger than this ship, so if we can keep the transponder thing working?

I make the decision. And we wait for Seven of Nine's report on the level of damage, the Captain decided.

He agreed crisply, saluting. Could I request your assistance to dismantle the important parts of the drive?

  


Seven of Nine stepped from the Alcove an hour later, still feeling a little groggy, but otherwise operational. She was surprised that instead of just the expected Colonel waiting patiently for her, there were two faces waiting expectantly for her. The Captain was there as well, she turned away respectfully as the Colonel approached and embraced Seven of Nine.

Will you stop getting yourself hurt, he whispered gently in her ear. It puts years on me!

It was unintentional, Seven of Nine assured him, wrapping her own arms around him to place her own kiss on his neck. 

The condition of Commander Tuvok? She demanded releasing the Colonel again.

the Colonel admitted. What happened?

There was an overload in a main power conduit. We were unable to terminate it before it became critical. The Commander shielded me from the explosion.

Can the damage be repaired, Seven? Captain Janeway asked, moving to join them.

Not satisfactorily. We have insufficient crew to maintain the power systems.

Can we continue to Komos with power as it is?

Seven of Nine considered the question carefully before responding. No. I will not be able to maintain life support and power.

The Captains face dropped at the news. You were right, Colonel, she said sniffly. Seven, find us a landing spot and prepare to abandon ship. The Colonel has found a number of items he thinks will be of benefit to us. Check them over, add anything else you think of benefit and beam them down first. We leave as soon as you are ready. She walked away to sit and wait beside Tuvok.

I think I have upset the Captain, the Colonel commented sadly.

Seven agreed thoughtfully. From past observations, it is more likely that she is unhappy because she is about to lose her ship?

  


With the last of the power from their ship, Seven located a spot on the edge of a wooded glade for their new beam down site.

The first thing the Colonel did when they arrived was to make a close inspection of Tuvoks injuries. The better natural light revealing more than the flickering green glow aboard the Borg vessel. He did not like what he found under the quickly applied bandages.

Captain Janeway asked, seeing the Colonel's concerned face.

He looked sadly up at her. I don't know if I can treat him, Ma'am. We honestly do not posses the medical kit to do much and I don't know enough about the flora here to do much with that!

We have to do something? She pleaded desperately.

Take Mrs Nine and search for any dead animals, the deader the better and cobwebs, he suggested. Bring them here. I might be able to splice the cuts up so nature can take its course. But he has lost a lot of blood, so nature might decide there is only one course. If he was human he would be dead by now! I'll get a fire going.

He looked up at the sky before continuing. We have about four hours of daylight left. We have to bandage the Commander up and construct some sort of shelter in that time.

Thirty minutes later Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine returned from their exploration. Seven was bearing a number of cobwebs she had carefully pulled from between branches and laid across her arm. The Captain was timidly bearing what looked like a decomposed squirrel, bearing it at arms length as though it might bite her, her face a picture a face of disgust.

The Colonel rose to greet her and took the dead animal from her, noting with satisfaction that the skin was moving.

he declared, ripping the skin open with his pocket knife and pulling a small handful of maggots from inside the skin. The Captain almost reeled away from the stench of rotting flesh, but stood mesmerised as the Colonel dropped the maggots into the deep cuts in Tuvoks leg and back, then laid Seven's cobwebs over them. Finally wrapping the bandages tight across the top. Satisfied he threw the remains of the creature upon the fire that was now crackling brightly beside them.

What did you put those maggots in there for? They might set up an infection, The Captain demanded after taking a deep breath from the revulsion. I can understand the cobwebs, they are supposed to stop the blood flow!

The Colonel looked up in surprise. Well done, Ma'am. You are correct about the cobwebs, perhaps there is something I've missed in Star Fleet training? The maggots are there to stop infection.

She looked at him puzzled, unable to understand what he meant, but unwilling to demand a more thorough answer.

He gave her one voluntarily. Cuts as deep as these must heal from the bottom out, Ma'am. Otherwise they will become infected. If I simply cautorize the wound he will be a cripple and it still might not work. This way anything that becomes infected will become food for the maggots, they won't touch healthy tissue.

Does it work? She asked, not believing him.

I'm here! The Colonel assured her. Now we had better make a shelter, he announced getting up. 

Come along, Ma'am, not giving her a chance to voice her further concern for his operation. 

Mrs Nine will look after the Commander for an hour or so, he suggested, giving Seven of Nine a warning glance.

Don't you ever give up? the Captain pleaded queasily.

Not while there is breath in my body, Ma'am, he announced cheerfully, picking up a sheet of metal he had scavenged from the ship. We need shelter. It will rain tonight.

Seven of Nine wisely said nothing. She remembered the Colonel's actions when they had been stranded before. Forcing everybody to work hard, before they could come to terms with their disastrous circumstances. It had seemed harsh, callous and survivalist at the time, but it had been essential to their survival, she had realised afterwards. He was doing the same here, stopping the Captain from brooding about losing her vessel and Tuvok.

The Colonel gripped the Captains arm firmly and pulled her after him as he set off for some thick bushes he could see about 200 yards from their small fire.

We don't need the Ritz, he commented lightly as he marched. We will have to find somewhere better tomorrow. But we do need it to be wind and rain proof. I do not sleep well with water trickling down my neck.

What do you want me to do? the Captain sighed, surrendering to the forceful commands of the soldier.

A little hedge laying, he said calmly. We need to create a weatherproof wall for our backs. The tin sheet we can use for a groundsheet. I'll show you how, then I'll have to find something for the front and sides.

Deftly he demonstrated how to notch and pull the stems of the bush over and interlace them with others to keep them in place, then stood back to watch as the Captain grappled with the problem.

Never did anything like this in Star Fleet survival courses, she grunted, as a branch snapped upright again, narrowly missing swatting her in the face.

That, Ma'am, the Colonel claimed. Is because Star Fleet survival courses don't last long enough to find out how unpleasant things can get and they leave you everything except the kitchen sink.

Satisfied she was going to cope he left to find materials for the rest of their primitive shelter.

He returned nearly three quarters of an hour later, to find that the Captain had erected a sizeable wall and was even filling the gaps she could find with smaller branches and leaves.

He enthused. Are you sure you haven't done this sort of thing before, Ma'am?

Captain Janeway glared at him, then broke into a laugh. It was obvious, she admitted. I could see daylight through the wall!

He grinned back. You would be surprised how unobvious it can be, he claimed. It wasn't to me the first time. Made damned sure the second though. I nearly drowned that night!

What is next? She prompted.

Roof and walls, then a lot more thatching, he grinned.

It was almost pitch dark by the time they were satisfied with their small shelter.

The Colonel gave it a quick once over' before standing back and admiring their hardwork.

I think we can drag Commander Tuvok and Mrs Nine over, he decided at last. With a little luck she has the kettle on?

He offered an arm to the Captain, who took it gratefully, straightening her back painfully before they returned to the fire.

  


Seven of Nine, as the Colonel had predicted, had water boiling for them by the time they reached the fire. Automatically she handed out the two cups that Colonel had brought with them.

See! What did I say! Mrs Nine is the perfect wife! He declared happily, ignoring her frown. Always ready with the important things in life. Like the Tea!

The task is made easier by the implant, Seven pointed out. I sensed your approach.

He grinned and kissed her quickly on the cheek. The wonders of technology, he declared.

Commander Tuvok behaving? He added.

He is developing a fever, Seven of Nine diagnosed.

To be expected. We'll damp him down, then I'll carry him to the shelter. If you can remember how to carry fire in a pot?

Seven of Nine glared at him. I am Borg! She declared imperiously. Borg do not forget!

How could I forget, he mused happily. Nobody else could put up with me. Now, ladies, if you will permit, I'll deal with the Commander?

The Captain had watched the performance between Seven of Nine and the Colonel, unsure whether to laugh, or be shocked on Seven of Nine's behalf. He was displaying totally different attitudes to those aboard Voyager and she did not like them. Here he was alternating sternness and an almost condescending frivolity, so unlike his normal stiff but friendly formality.

He wasn't like this the last time? Was he? She questioned Seven of Nine as the Colonel passed out of earshot.

Not when we were alone, Seven of Nine affirmed bending to the fire to ladle burning embers into the former kettle.

Then why is he like this? The Captain demanded.

For your protection. 

Seven of Nine's simple statement jolted the Captain from confusion to open annoyance. She demanded.

Seven of Nine looked up at the Captains angry face. He is attempting to stop you from thinking about our current position and the status of Commander Tuvok, she said simply. His actions were efficient.

I don't need protection! The Captain snapped, turning on her heel and stalking after the Colonel. She was followed a few minutes later be Seven of Nine bearing the now glowing pot on the end of a stout stick.

She arrived at the new shelter in time to witness the argument between the Colonel and the Captain.

The Captain started hotly, standing over him.

He looked up mildly from covering Tuvok with his combat jacket. 

I'm not one of the crew, to be bullied and diverted!

No, Ma'am! He acknowledged.

I know how bad our position is!

Don't give me that innocent look! The Captain snapped getting into her stride. I know you are trying to distract my attention. I was embarrassed by how you were carrying on with Seven. It was not the way you naturally behave, so why start it here! And no more Ma'am' nonsense! She stormed, not letting the Colonel speak.

I'm in command. Tuvok is a member of my crew, as are you and Seven. I do not take your instructions and you take my instructions. Do I make myself clear? She finished.

The Colonel slowly stood up and turned to face the Captain, willing himself into controlling what he was going to say.

I acknowledge your command over the Commander, Ma'am, he said quietly. Though he is not in a position to count for much at present. I acknowledge your overall control over Mrs Nine, aboard Voyager, or any other space vessel, provided she is in agreement. I do willingly place myself at your disposal aboard any space vessel, as per my orders.

I am even prepared to accept that as a commissioned Flag Officer' in a navy you may technically outrank me ashore and am generally prepared to give way to you on those grounds and my understanding of HM Regulations, where to do so is appropriate and your experience exceeds my own, he admitted. 

Captain Janeway allowed herself to relax a little, but tensed again as he continued firmly.

But right here, in the circumstances we are in, rank means sod all, Ma'am! And you know squit about how to survive here. I have lived in conditions like this for months, not knowing what is safe to eat, how to treat injuries without magic sprays. That is what I have done for most of my life. It is called survival.

I know how much the Commander means to you, Ma'am. I know you are going to brood over his fate and whether there was an alternative to what happened. But there is a time for that later, when you are home. Here it will kill you! My goal is to get you to survive for as long as it takes. If you think my actions were wrong you can Can' me again, when we get home to Voyager. Until then I will bully you. Yes, I know I am bullying you! Embarrass you, threaten you, terrify you, abuse you. You will undoubtedly end up hating my guts. But we will survive. That means more to me than any prison sentence you want to name!

You have accepted my instructions before, Ma'am, because you thought I knew what I was doing, he reminded her more gently. Why worry about them now? You've said before. This is my sort of situation. Nothing to use, almost hopeless position. Its what I lived with, it is almost home' to me. Trust me, Ma'am?

The Captain relaxed, a little. There was a lot in what he had said. She had never had to live on a planet with so little. The thought of having to create shelter for them would have crossed her mind, but she would have had little idea of how to do do so. She might even allowed herself to think about their plight, but she had little real idea of how to survive, none at all about how to treat Tuvok. But she was not going to let him get away scot free. Very well, Colonel. I accept you have the experience. But treat Seven that way again and I'll kill you!

The Colonel relaxed. Agreed, Ma'am. I was already intending to make my apologies to Mrs Nine as soon as we had a moment together. If you wish I will make a formal and public apology to her now? he offered, turning to Seven of Nine, who was busily trying to rebuild the fire infront of the entrance to the shelter.

You'll do it better in private, the Captain decided. I'll give you fifteen minutes. She turned and disappeared into the night.

You told her what I was doing? The Colonel asked Seven as he crouched beside her.

She asked, Seven of Nine agreed. Captain Janeway is not inclined to panic. She would realise your intentions.

I know, he admitted wistfully. But we would have passed the difficult stage by then. Still, thank you for playing along. It was perfectly done and I am sorry if it seemed wrong. Besides it made her think of something else other than how little we've got!

He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her tenderly. 

She wrapped her arm around his head and turned the kiss into a lingering one. You will be adaptable, she volunteered.

  


Captain Janeway returned thirty minutes later, after wandering lost in her own thoughts of inadequacy and depression, finally reconciling herself to the fact that she was going to have to take the Colonels strict command again. Silently she sat down beside the Colonel. 

What happens now? She asked quietly.

We rest, the Colonel said simply. Tomorrow we need to find water, food and a better campsite. That sorted we can get that transmitter working.

And Tuvok?

We try and stop him burning up and don't leave him alone, Ma'am, the Colonel agreed. But he is out of our hands.

The Captain thought about the statement. Aboard Voyager the Doctor would have deployed hypo-sprays, regenerators and all sorts of other equipment that would keep him alive and generally aid his recovery. Here there was only the Colonel's almost cavalier treatment and casual acceptance. It was difficult to accept the difference. Tuvok was, or had been, her most loyal and dependable officer and friend. Now he may well be dying, due to a silly accident. Unconsciously she rubbed her eyes, they were stinging.

It was an act noticed by the Colonel in the firelight. He reached over and held her wrist.

I'm sorry, Ma'am. I do know how much the Commander means to you, he whispered. You know if I can do something I will. But just at the moment all you and I can do is pray and rely upon him being as stubborn as his CO.

I don't believe in a God, she sniffed. 

Perhaps you should? He might not be a talker, but he listens well, he offered softly. Now I suggest you and Mrs Nine get some rest. I'll stand guard and watch over the Commander.

Captain Janeway smiled weakly at him. I know you will do your best, Colonel. And you will force us to do what you believe is for the best, she admitted. But I don't like being sheltered from the truth. You think Tuvok will succumb to his injuries, don't you? She could not bring herself to use the term die.

The Colonel considered her question. I won't shelter you, Captain. But I won't necessarily tell you everything at once. As for Commander Tuvok. I honestly don't know. I am told by the Doctor that Vulcans have good recuperative powers. Whether that is natural, or because they respond better to his technology I don't know. He may recover, he may not, I may have to amputate that leg. Your guess is as good as mine.

The Vulcan healing trance? She offered hopefully.

The Colonel shook his head sadly. As I understand it, Captain. He would need to be at least in touch with the outside world to start with. At the moment I doubt if he knows it even exists!

She nodded an acceptance and crawled into their small shelter, Leaving him with Seven of Nine.

The Colonel signalled to her to follow and moved a little way away. 

She is lost, Seven, he commented, taking Seven of Nine in his arms. You know more about survival than she does and there are a lot more nasty shocks to come. Please, watch over her?

Seven accepted. Who will watch over you?

He grinned. I have a stubborn streak a mile wide running down my back and a beautiful wife waiting to remind me of it!

The embrace and kiss had them staggering under the mutual passion. Just remember I love you above all else. No matter what happens! He pleaded as they broke apart.

Seven of Nine said calmly, turning to return to the shelter.

She checked Tuvok as she crawled in and found him feverish but calm. The Captain was a different matter. Seven of Nine could see her chest heave in silent sobs. 

She studied the Captains heaving form for a moment, deciding whether to call the Colonel for help. Remembering the Colonel's plea, she lay beside the Captain and wrapped her slender arm around her, pulling the Captain tight to her own body in compassion. 

The Captain gripped the arm tightly to her and slowly settled.

Outside Seven heard the Colonel start to sing softly. The words she recognised, they were the ones he often used when he was uncertain of his fate, The Lord's My Shepherd'. That was satisfactory, she decided. Like the Captain, she did not believe in deity's, but she accepted that the Colonel found them helpful and she believed in him with all her Soul'. That was an abstract term for her to accept as well, she decided. He would know exactly what to do by the morning. With that thought firmly in her mind, she also slept.

  


The Captain woke early in the morning and found she was clutching a slender blue covered arm and a soft and warm body laying behind her, almost curled protectively around her. As if stung, she released it, pushing it away from her. Then almost guiltily pulled it back again as she started to remember the events of the previous day, grateful for the sense of warmth and comfort it seemed to offer.

Behind her Seven of Nine stirred, her own recuperation interrupted by the Captains movements. She tried to slide her arm back in shock at it's location. The Captain held on to it firmly, then allowed it to slide away, before turning to its owner.

I'm sorry, Seven. I didn't mean to wake you! The Captain apologised.

It is 05:30, Seven excused. It is time to wake. Apologies are not relevant.

The Captain smiled. 05:30 was the time that the Colonel awoke aboard ship and seemingly everywhere else, almost with Seven's metronomic efficiency. She reached out and hugged her sleeping partner in childish fashion. I'm sorry anyhow! She insisted.

Please don't tell the Colonel about last night. His opinion of me must be near the floor as it is! She continued in a nervous whisper.

It will not be necessary, Seven whispered back, picking up the Captains nervous mood. 

The comment did not entirely pacify the Captain. It was ambiguous, given her current frame of mind. But she was unlikely to get a better explanation from Seven. How is Tuvok? She asked instead.

Seven reported, turning to leave the shelter.

Good Morning, Ladies! The Colonel boomed at them as they emerged. Water for tea is on and I will prepare breakfast in a few minutes. I trust you slept well? He finished looking hard at the Captain dishevelled face.

She felt the gaze as it bored through her to see her mind. She tried to meet and match it with her own, knowing she was going to fail. Quite well, thank you, Colonel! There were no interruptions?

First night, the Colonel confided with a grin. Always quiet on the first night. That's why I volunteer for the first night of guard duty.

Okay, so what is for breakfast. Not Tommies? The Captain asked hopefully. The Colonel's infectious good humour starting to get to her.

Can't go wrong with Tommies, the Colonel protested in mock distress. But I have found some mushrooms, so I'll griddle those for those with more discerning palettes?

I think you and Mrs Nine should make the first foraging party, Captain? The Colonel suggested when they had finished their meagre meal. Mrs Nine knows what to look for, and it will give me a chance to rest and check over the Commander properly?

It was a proposal that was acceptable to the Captain. She was far from sure she could face a morning with the Colonel constantly driving her on. Though there was a sneaking suspicion she would not be a lot better off with Seven of Nine, the similarities between the attitudes they displayed had never been more evident than they had been for the last few days.

As the two women walked away the Colonel turned to other matters. First came Tuvok. The Commander was still unconscious and feverish. But he was not twisting yet. With infinite care the Colonel removed the dressing from the leg and inspected the wound and its surrounds. It still appeared to be clean, but there was a slightly sweet smell to the leg. It prompted him to inspect further down before changing the bandaging and put the old ones in water to boil.

That task completed he investigated the near surrounds, erecting small traps to attempt to trap some of the small squirrel like animals that seemed to infest the trees near the camp. He also loped a few straight branches and fashioned them into spears. There was nothing springy enough to make a satisfactory bow, but the trees reminded him of ash, he hoped that they would fire harden to create strong tips to his make shift weapons.

Finally he settled to rest to await the return of the Captain and Seven of Nine. 

A small glint of light made him look up, shading his eyes he could see two small figures hurrying away. They were too far to catch, but they appeared to be humanoid. He assumed that he had been spotted. Uncertain if they were friendly he made his preparations.

  


How well do you think we will do? Captain Janeway asked Seven of Nine as she was led away.

I do not know, Seven of Nine was inevitably as honest in her answers as she was calm in supplying them. I am aware of how to test possible food, but I am not familiar with the range of plant life the Colonel is. It will require a certain level of experimentation. We must also find the water supply, the Colonel is less efficient without adequate supplies of tea.

The Captain smiled. The Colonel's addiction to strong tea was as well known aboard Voyager as her own for coffee. Perhaps we had better find a substitute for when his supplies run out? She teased.

Seven of Nine seemed to consider the suggestion for two whole seconds before answering solemnly. A wise precaution.

The mornings stroll over the alien countryside reminded the Captain of walks her parents had insisted on taking her and her sister on as a child. It had been a vain attempt to separate her from her science books. Her parents knowledge of the natural things around them was not exceptional and she had been a reluctant participant. The outdoors was something that happened to others. It had a habit of being cold and wet or hot and sweaty and was definitely not satisfactory.

Her attitude had not changed much now she was approaching middle age. She could still live quite happily not having to commune with nature.

She wondered what Seven really thought about it. She had spent most of her life not even knowing that nature' existed. Now she was married to a man who was more at home living with it, than in a bed. Not interested in the science but in its physical attributes, what could it be used for? Food, shelter or protection? 

It was a question she brought up as Seven of Nine stooped to inspect a green broad leafed plant.

We have agreed to disagree upon the subject, Seven admitted, tugging at the plant. He has a distaste for enclosed spaces but accepts them as necessary. I prefer the order of technology, but have learnt to accept that order does not exist in many places. It makes us efficient.

Like being able to find natural food? the Captain suggested, as Seven of Nine toppled backwards, pulling up a dark tuber.

Seven of Nine looked up at her gravely. As a human I must consume food for nutrients I am unable to absorb all that is required from the alcove. It is not efficient, but must be done. The Colonel is capable of obtaining food and rendering it palatable in conditions where I cannot achieve the same. It was logical to learn some of his knowledge.

The Captain agreed. So what have we got? It looked decidedly unappetising and natural to her

I believe the Colonel may refer to it as a beetroot, Seven of Nine admitted less certainly, knocking the dirt off it. If it proves edible, he will probably create a soup. There are more of these plants, we will need to collect several kilogrammes.

The Captain was impressed by the level of knowledge seemingly displayed by her ex-Borg companion and willingly applied herself to the task of pulling more of the almost black tubers from the ground as Seven of Nine pointed them out.

Thirty minutes later they had managed to extract enough of the bulbs to satisfy Seven of Nine. She had also found several herbs that she thought may be usable so they had found their way into the bag they were carrying as well. 

There are eight humanoids observing us, Seven of Nine commented, as they cleaned their hands off on broad leaves. They are carrying primitive weapons.

800 metres in the trees, towards the west. I saw movement.

Captain Janeway glanced towards the thicket Seven of Nine identified, but could see nothing. I think we had better make for the camp, she suggested, a premonition hitting her. She did not expect primitive cultures to be friendly to strange beings.

Carefully they rose and started to retrace their route.

We are being followed, Seven of Nine announced a few minutes later. They are moving to intercept.

This time the Captain did see dark figures moving. She altered their course to take them away from them and towards another standing of trees about 1500 metres away and picked up the pace.

They are pursuing and gaining, Seven observed, striding out to match the Captains new quicker pace.

Can we reach the trees before they catch us? We might be able to avoid them.

Seven examined the distances between their pursuers and the trees. The pursuers were no more than 500 metres behind and the trees were still over a kilometre away. If we run? She offered.

They stepped up the pace again to a quick trot, then into full flight as the baying of their pursuers reached them.

They had reached the trees, their pursuers hard on their heels, when Seven of Nine caught her foot and sent them both sprawling headlong. Seven of Nine fetching herself against a tree.

The Captain screamed in desperation, rolling over and reaching for her companion.

Seven of Nine barely moved at her insistent prodding, out cold.

The Captain looked up in time to see the first of the ebony black figures reach her and cuff her sharply with a club.

  


A small groan from the shelter made the Colonel look around from his lonely vigil. Quietly he crawled to the entrance and looked in, to find a pale but conscious Tuvok trying to look around.

Good afternoon, Commander.

Tuvok gazed at the tall soldier silhouetted in the opening. My status? he whispered hoarsely.

the Colonel admitted.

Location of the Captain?

Out with Mrs Nine looking for food.

Tuvok considered the statement carefully. We are stranded, he said at last.

For a while, the Colonel admitted again. Can I interest you in something to drink?

Slowly Tuvok nodded an agreement, then coughed violently. The Colonel, fearful of the additional damage that the Vulcan would do to himself, dived in and held him firmly to prevent him thrashing.

Quietly Tuvok settled again.

Hurts like the devil, doesn't it? The Colonel offered softly. I'm sorry but there is nothing I can do!

You are correct, Tuvok agreed hoarsely. I will control it.

The Colonel turned and crawled out, to find himself looking at the tip of a spear.

The first thoughts that went through his mind as he looked up along the shaft were ones of shame at having been trapped, then grudging respect for the owner of the spear that was so professionally held at his throat. It had been a long time since anybody had crept up on him like this.

At the end of the six foot spear stood a seven foot humanoid, his skin was a dark as ebony, flat nose, thick lips and short frizzy hair, the archetypal Kenyan, the Colonel decided, linking the alien being as he always did with the things he was familiar with on Earth. He was dressed in a heavy leather jerkin and what the Colonel could only describe as leather knickerbocker' trousers ending just above the knee. If it had not have been for the spear he would have laughed in embarrassment, he had not seen anybody wear them since he was a child in the orphanage.

Watching the strangers face carefully he slowly brought his hand up and gently moved the point of the spear to one side.

Okay. You have me what are you going to do with me? He asked gently.

He did not expect a response. But his action seemed to excite the alien. Caffer. Outrethau! He screamed.

Immediately the Colonel was surrounded by another eight spears. He froze where he knelt.

The spears waved at him, indicating that he should stand. He did so slowly, keeping his hands in the open fearful of eliciting a violent response.

Finally standing his arms were grabbed and bound tightly behind him. He noticed with cool detachment that they did a professional job with that as well, binding the elbows tightly together.

A prod from a spear forced him to take a step forward, before he turned.

My friend! He protested, nodding at the shelter. 

I'm not going anywhere without him! He continued, ignoring the jabbing spears.

The aliens seemed to get the message. Two of his captives ducked into the shelter and dragged Tuvok out. He screamed as one pulled him by the injured leg. They then slung him over the shoulder of another member of their party and urged the Colonel forwards, forcing him into a quick trot.

  


Captain Janeway woke slowly and painfully from the cuff behind the ear she had received during capture. Unintentionally she groaned aloud as she turned over to examine the surrounds. She appeared to be in a low stone hut. A thick pillar in the centre seemed to be supporting the roof. The only light appeared to be coming from the open doorway, it made the features inside the small building indistinct shadows. Beside her she could just make out the form of Seven of Nine, carefully she half crawled have slid towards the recumbent figure and was grateful for the moan that emanated from it when she shook it.

She called softly.

It prompted Seven of Nine to wake with a start, then groaned when she tried to sit upright.

Take it easy, the Captain urged. We seem to be safe for the moment.

Good morning, Ladies! The Colonel's voice announced his presence in the room.

The voice seemed to be coming from the pillar. Curiously the Captain crawled towards it to find the Colonel bound to it hand and foot.

They caught you as well? She asked in surprise. It seemed an almost impossible event.

Regret, I was captured without a struggle, Ma'am, the Colonel admitted. The natives are very good and I was particularly dumb. Could you check the commander, please. I suspect some of his wounds have reopened, our friends were not wildly gentle with him. He is over by the far wall.

I didn't think it was possible for you to be captured, the Captain commented as she dutifully moved to check Tuvok, finding him sweating hard and unconscious.

Nobody is perfect, Ma'am. Bound to find somebody better at things than me if you look, the Colonel opined.

Behind him Seven of Nine crawled up and set about his bindings. 

Released he passed a guilty look at the Captain, before lifting Seven to her feet to wrap an arm around her and placing a lingering and loving kiss.

It was another private moment that the Captain found embarrassing, forcing her to turn away for a few moments before asking. How are you going to get us out of here? Wherever here is?

Regretfully the Colonel released Seven of Nine and rubbed his wrists to return the circulation. I have no plans at present, Captain. We can't use the door as there are two large gentlemen out there waiting for us. I suspect they are as adept with their spears as they are at creeping up on people. The walls are brick and stone and it will take too long to dig through the thatch. Besides as we are still alive, I don't think they aren't as primitive as they look, so I propose to do nothing until we have something more to go by.

That is unlike you, Colonel. You don't like being a prisoner? The Captain challenged.

The Colonel shrugged. We aren't in a desperate position yet, Mrs Nine tells me I work better when things are impossible.

There are other good reasons to avoid trying to run around if there is a possibility of any other solution, Captain, he added quietly.

There was something in his voice that made the Captain look at him hard. What is it? She demanded.

He took her arm and led her to a far corner of the room before speaking. The Commander, he whispered. I smelt gangrene earlier when changing the dressings. I'm not desperately sure there isn't serious damage to his spine either, there doesn't appear to be a lot of response from about the middle of his chest down. We couldn't drag him around the countryside, even if we got clear!

The Captain slumped in shock and horror from the Colonel's diagnosis. He caught her and gently lowered her to the ground. 

She knew of the way limbs rotted under gangrene, but she had never seen it. It was so easy to prevent, then remembered that it was only easy to prevent aboard a Star Ship, with proper medical treatment. As for paralysis. She tried to envisage Tuvok in a chair, it did not work.

You said those maggots would stop infection! She pleaded desperately. You must be wrong about the paralysis!

I hope I am and they have! He said bitterly. The wound itself is as clean as a whistle. But they don't carry blood to the places it has to reach! Please, Captain. I need your permission to do the amputation if and when we need to and it will need all of us to do the job. Mind control or not it is going to hurt if he is awake!

Are you sure? How much? When? Will it save his life? She asked numbly, the questions tumbling from her as she tried coming to terms to the prospect of a legless and paralysed Security Officer.

Perhaps it is just Vulcan healing? She suggested frantically.

The Colonel's voice was low and urgent. The lowest I can go is the top of the gash in the leg, about halfway up the calf. Provided we can amputate before it spreads. The rest I don't know, but I don't want to take the risk of being right and not treating him. Down a leg, he will still have a chance, even if I'm wrong. He stands none if I'm right and we do nothing!

He knelt, waiting, watching her face intently until the Captain finally looked up, swallowing hard. Very well, Colonel. You may proceed, if and when it becomes imperative. But if he wakes I want him to know first, she said bravely.

He'll know, Captain, the Colonel promised. This is field medicine at its most brutal. Awake or not, he'll know about it.

Horrified by the implication she staggered out of the door to be met by two spears pointing steadily at her breast. She had a feeling that they might not be such a bad solution, but complied to their implied command and stepped back into their quarters.

The Colonel in the mean time knelt beside Seven of Nine as she examined the Commanders condition for herself.

His temperature is dangerously high, Seven of Nine observed calmly.

There is a severe infection in the leg, the Colonel pointed out. If I lift you, could you have a look at the roof and give an opinion of how long it will take to get out?

Seven of Nine looked at him sharply. You did not tell the Captain the truth, after you promised not to protect her?

The Captain has enough on her plate, the Colonel said nodding in the direction of the huddled Captain. I told her the truth as I saw it. But as we have nothing else to do, it pays to check. I think the thatch is a good two feet thick.

You are seeking to prevent me from thinking about the condition of Commander Tuvok? Seven of Nine challenged.

The Colonel thought for a moment before replying. Not you especially, he decided. There is me as well. I don't like cutting people up in cold blood. Trying to find a way out will give me something else to think about.

Silently Seven of Nine rose and inspected the roof. We should try at the edges, she announced offering herself to be picked up.

Thank you! He whispered, kissing her on the neck, before wrapping his arms around her thighs and lifting her clear of the floor.

Quickly Seven poked at the reeds, pulling a few strands clear, before signalling her desire to be dropped down again. 

Your supposition was correct, she said, pulling out a few strands that had lodged in her hair. We will not be able to cut our way out of the roof using the small knife available to us.

She walked over to the where Captain Janeway sat and silently sat beside her. They were joined a moment later by the Colonel, who quietly sat between them. He hesitated for a moment, then quietly he extended his arms around them and pulled both close, taking what comfort he could from their physical presence. Automatically, Seven of Nine laid her head on his shoulder turning slightly to put her arms around him. The Captain hesitated for a moment, resisting, embarrassed by what was being offered, then gratefully followed Seven of Nine's lead.

You may let go, Kathryn, the Colonel whispered. We are all friends here. Nobody will say anything!

Even in her desperate state, the Captain noticed the deliberate change in the Colonel's address. It made her think for a moment, then squeezed him tighter. Guilt made her look up and seek Seven of Nines face. Seven of Nine nodded at her, giving silent approval and she buried her head on the Colonels shoulder again.

Why are you always so calm? The Captain asked quietly after a while. Even when the Unimatrix was destroyed, you showed nothing. Yet you are feeling something?

The Colonel was spared supplying the answer by a procession of the tall native guards ducking through the door and surrounding them, spears poised.

Regretfully all three straightened up from their comfortable repose and watched warily as two more, a male and female followed. 

These were obviously something a little special. Their dress was more elegant. Gone were the hard wearing leather jerkins and knickerbocker trousers of the warriors. In their place where gaily dyed woollen smocks decorated in beads and taffeta. Between them they carried a box about two feet cubed. They placed it reverentially infront of the party then prostrated themselves.

The Star Fleet party looked at each other in stunned and silent surprise, all baffled by the strange act.

Finally the Colonel shrugged and moved towards the box, then tutted heavily as his way was blocked by spears. He looked apologetically at the Captain, who also tried to move forward. Her path was blocked in similar manner.

Well they brought it here for some reason! The Colonel expostulated in frustration. Come on Mrs Nine, third time lucky?

I will also be prohibited, Seven prophesied, crawling forward slowly.

It was with mutual surprise that she found she was allowed not only to approach the box, but remove its lid and peer inside. One glance was all it took to recognise the devices that lay inside, She straightened and turned back to Janeway and the Colonel who were watching her intently.

There are four Borg translation devices and a neural link. They are of old and less efficient design, but appear to be operational, she said. How do you wish me to proceed?

Put one on! Both the Captain and the Colonel exclaimed together.

Carefully she withdrew one of the three inch square devices and placed it in its design position against the implant below her left ear.

Before her the two figures looked up nervously. We humbly beseech you not to make us disappear exalted one! The female begged. We humbly apologise for our delayed greeting we were not aware of your exalted presence.

Apologies are irrelevant, Seven of Nine announced in surprise. 

We will arrange our contestants immediately, exalted one! They chorused in alarm. We have some prepared to contest your servants!

Sacrifices are not required! Seven tried to say, but they were beyond reasoning as they bowed and scraped their way backwards towards the door, rapidly followed by the guards.

What was all that about? The Captain asked in bewilderment when they were finally left alone.

It was a puzzled Seven of Nine that turned back to them. I believe they have decided I am a deity. They wish to make sacrifices to me.

Well that makes three of us at least! The Colonel suggested with a grin. No worries. You tell them not to, we all have a nice cup of tea and we all finish friends?

They seem insistent and they require your assistance. I believe they require you to assimilate them.

That could be a problem, the Colonel admitted. I assume they don't intend to be willing and I assume they won't be impressed if we don't assimilate them?

It would be a logical assumption, Seven of Nine agreed.

I do not possess the powers that are attributed to a deity, she added.

Actually I think you would make a good deity, the Colonel opined. You have all the qualifications. Arrogance, confidence and ability. Just put them together, like the Captain and I do?

I do not know how! Seven protested.

Of course you do, the Colonel encouraged. Just think of all the things Lieutenant B'Elanna Paris and the others have told you you shouldn't do and do them but with a little more aloofness. When you get right down to it command is all about bluff, persuading people you know what you are doing. That's about right isn't it, Captain?

The Captain started. I suppose you are right, she conceded doubtfully.

Now how about practising on the chaps outside and see if they can be persuaded to bring our gear up? Just remember they are something disgusting that you have trodden in and you will do fine, The Colonel continued, ignoring the doubt in the Captains voice.

Seven of Nine nodded doubtfully. 

I will comply, she stated and stepped towards the doorway.

The two guards outside stiffened as she passed into the daylight, but did not point spears. It gave her some encouragement.

My drones require the equipment they brought. You will lead me to it, she commanded haughtily.

The two guards hesitated, torn between their earthly orders to guard the hut and the commands of the goddess.

Comply, or be assimilated, Seven demanded again. My drones will not attempt to escape.

A guard genuflected deeply towards her and signalled she should follow, before leading her away, glancing behind at frequent intervals to ensure she was following.

From the doorway both the Captain and the Colonel watched as she was lead away.

Considering what we have, what do you expect to gain from our equipment? the Captain asked quietly.

Absolutely nothing, except a confident Seven of Nine and perhaps a chance for you and her to fix the Borg devices so we can all understand what is going on, the Colonel admitted. There are some tools in my webbing that might allow you to do something.

She will be insufferable when we get back to the ship, if she does it, the Captain opined. Can she hold it up?

I hope so, Captain, the Colonel admitted to his own concerns in the answer.

And I'm not arrogant! she protested suddenly. Certainly not a patch on you!

Of course you are, the Colonel disputed cheerfully. You couldn't be a Captain if you weren't. Just you've learnt to hide it better than most. Mrs Nine doesn't have to learn that here.

  


Seven of Nine observed the surroundings with her usual obsessive interest as she was guided. The building that she and her compatriots were housed in, like the ones she was now passing, were sat on a gentle hill, and were all simple single story huts, with white walls, thatched roofs with no windows or doors. She risked a glance inside a building, but saw little there except what looked like bedding. 

The path she was following included a drainage ditch half full of water draining the steady fall of rain, she suspected that it also formed an open sewer as a few unidentifiable objects floated past her. Occasionally the path was metalled with slabs of rock. Towards the bottom the buildings became larger and second stories became more evident, with apertures for windows and wooden shutters to cover them. The rain and the shutters gave an inclination as to why this race were so disinclined to windows.

At the bottom of the hill she was faced by a wall ten metres tall. 

Unperturbed her guard turned and headed for an arch in the wall. This one she noticed as she passed through, possessed metal gates, though they were open and suggested that they had not been closed for a long while.

The arch led into a short tunnel then into an amphitheatre about forty metres diameter. Dominating the far side was a single large building. It was there that her guide was leading her to. At the door he bowed deeply to her and indicated that she should pass through, then ran as she stepped past.

Inside she found herself in a torch lit hall and faced by several of the tall black men, all wearing the gaily coloured smocks she had seen earlier. As one they fell to their knees before her.

Their subjugation gave her a moment to adjust to the flickering torch light that predominated in the hall she appeared to have walked into and start making out details. 

The hall was nearly as large as the amphitheatre outside and almost totally empty except for a statue near the opposite wall, carefully she tried to identify its form, then took a deep breath of surprise as the form of the Borg Queen smote her visual senses.

She barely noticed the twisted figure that emerged from the shadows until it spoke. Exalted one! How may your humble servants assist?

I wish, Seven of Nine started, then remembered herself. You will return the equipment my drones arrived with and a doctor to treat the injured drone! She commanded assertively.

Yes, Exalted One! The figure stated. 

There will also be no contests or assimilations!

The contest must proceed! The priest screamed, then doubled up in a painful fit of coughing.

Examining it, Seven of Nine realised it was a woman, but unlike the other priests in the temple was dressed in a black cloak with a cowl that was drawn close around her head. The twist in her body appeared to be giving her some difficulty and she coughed painfully. A stump of an arm appeared to hold the chest against the racking cough.

Seven of Nine took a step towards the priestess, but she shied away from her, seemingly fearful of being touched by a Goddess'.

You will comply! Then we will be released! Seven snapped back, then turned on her heel and marched out to prevent further argument.

She slumped a little coming into the gathering evening and checked to see if the twisted priestess was going to follow and argue further. Satisfied that she was not, Seven of Nine quickly made her way back towards the others.

She arrived to find that the Captain had fallen asleep, slumped against the Colonel.

The Colonel gave her a weak smile. Things are catching her up, he whispered in explanation. So I persuaded her to sleep for a while. She'll be as right as rain when she comes round.

You hit her? Seven of Nine suggested with an interested eyebrow.

He protested vehemently. That leaves bruises so she would know about it.

Seven of Nine, deciding it was wise not to ask further questions, settled beside him. She slid her arm around behind him and settled as best she could. You will not attempt to perform such acts upon me, she warned.

  


The Captain awoke feeling much relaxed some hours later finding all was in darkness and her head on something firm but comfortable. She straightened slowly and explored her pillow carefully to find it attached to a body at one end and a knee at the other.

I suspect it is a good thing it is dark, Captain. Our blushes must be well beyond the ears by now? The Colonel whispered cheerfully. With your permission. I will surrender guard to you for the remainder of the night. Mrs Nine is sleeping on the other leg.

Fine. And I'm sorry for sleeping like that, she agreed. You must have been awake for nearly three days solid. What time is it?

No apologies, Kathryn. You sound a lot better for the rest! The Colonel responded evenly. Time, somewhere after midnight, the guard was changed a little while ago. Good Night.

That was that, the Colonel dropped into sleep, still leaning against the wall, leaving the Captain to make best use of her time.

The Captain gently waved a hand over him and found as he had described Seven was laying curled up beside him, her head on his thigh hands gripping it firmly. His hand gently resting on her shoulder, as it had been with hers.

She reflected on the easy sense of security that the scene must have provided, two women sleeping together on the lap of the same man, as she crept closer to the door to keep watch, until the others woke up.

  


I don't understand? The Captain protested after Seven of Nine had finished her briefing of her short expedition. Why take the Borg Queen as a Deity? Why did this race survive at all when it is so close to Borg Central.

I do not know, Seven of Nine admitted.

I can think of several reasons, Captain, the Colonel suggested looking up from his work. He was busily cleaning Tuvoks wounds using water and cloths supplied by the native Calhards, when they had supplied food with the coming of dawn, though there was still no sign of their sparse possessions.

The Captain smiled weakly in recognition. I thought you might. Carry on?

First the reason for their continued existence is easy, the Colonel explained. No matter how big the massacre, there are always survivors. Not enough to cause a problem perhaps, certainly scared and in hiding. After a Borg visitation I suspect there would not be a lot left of whatever civilisation there may have been, so their survival would be a brutal test. People can become quite savage when it comes to survival. Look at me!

the Captain accepted the argument. I can see the argument for that. But why not take the planet, apart from the rain it isn't a bad place? And why worship a Borg?

Primitive cultures will take anything that they don't understand as a deity, the Colonel pointed out. Look at Earth cultures, the Greeks, Romans et al. They worshipped everything. Maybe Queen Borg used the planet as a holiday home? She and a dozen drones would probably impress the locals. As for taking the planet, perhaps the Borg didn't need it? We are fairly close to where the prime Unimatrix was based, so it isn't of great strategic value as a supply base and Mrs Nine says it was an early conquest?

I suppose it is all plausible, the Captain agreed, with some scepticism still evident in her voice. But I think there is more to be learnt in the temple.

I quite agree, Captain. I think we ought to go and have a good poke around tonight.

How is Tuvok? The Captain asked in concern, seeing the Colonel tie off the last of the new dressings.

The Colonel shrugged. I doubt he'll be coming with us anytime soon, Captain. Or anything much at all. I don't know if his wounds are healing or not to be honest they seem to open and close of their own volition. All I can say is that they are clear of infection.

And his leg?

No better or worse. He is burning up though!

Will we have to operate?

Again the Colonel shrugged. I'm trying to put it off, Ma'am. I couldn't smell anything when I changed the bandages this time and the discolouration seems to have gone, so I'm hoping I was mistaken. I'll keep a close eye on it.

They settled to wait for the evening to arrive. Seven of Nine and the Colonel sitting close to each other each with an arm around the other, the Captain noticed. These small symbols of their close relationship were starting to play on her mind. It appeared to be all they needed for mutual comfort. For a moment she was tempted to join them, to seek a comforting arm from one or other, to shelter her from the feeling of loneliness that was growing upon her.

She was not certain if it was tact, diplomacy, heroics or something else that had her sit beside and grip Tuvoks hand instead. 

It certainly seemed to puzzle the Colonel, he crawled over to kneel beside her. The Commander is too far gone to offer much, Kathryn, he whispered, gently placing a large hand on her shoulder. 

Again she noted the change of address and friendly actions. For a moment a flash of anger took her and she slapped the hand off.

Will you not join Seven and I to see what the Calhards have offered for breakfast?

I'm not hungry, she lashed out. Why are you trying to be friendly?

Because I'm what feminists used to scornfully call a Male Chauvinist Pig, Duck. I won't let any woman suffer on her own if it is avoidable, whatever her rank, he answered simply, not turning a hair at the seeming hostility in the challenge and resolutely replaced his arm around her waist. Besides, I've been in your position. My closest friend laying mortally injured beside me. I know how it feels, as though the world is disintegrating around you?

The Captain found herself melting in the powerful arm, that was settling around her. I suppose there is no harm. But won't Seven get jealous? She whispered back.

Seven knows loneliness as well as I do and I asked for permission first, the Colonel admitted gently.

With a shy grin, the Captain allowed the Colonel to lift her to her feet and support her as they walked back to Seven of Nine.

  


They were disturbed again a short while later by the return of the two priests and three women. All five bowed deeply to them as they scrambled to their feet, then turned to Tuvok. The Colonel sprang towards him to stop them.

The two priests started to babble at Seven of Nine in their strange language.

Finally Seven translated. You should allow them access to the Commander, she instructed. The women are the village healers.

Cautiously the Colonel complied then watched keenly as the women knelt beside Tuvok and started to remove his torn jacket and the dressings underneath. Finally he knelt beside them as they started to apply a dark salve to the smaller abrasions and repack the deeper ones with what he quickly established as a form absorbent sponge and more maggots. Cautiously he dipped a finger into the salve and smelt that, his nose wrinkled in disgust at the strong smell. Wintergreen and paraffin? he muttered in surprise, before wiping it off on the back of his hand and feeling a warm numbness spread from the treated area. If that don't get him running like a four year old nothing will!

Satisfied with their efforts he stood up again. Bit kill or cure. But they are doing better than I can, Captain, he answered the Captains unasked question with barely a glance in her direction. It won't kill him outright, so I think we can leave them to it.

In the mean time the priests were continuing their discussions with Seven of Nine.

They wish to show us their village, Seven reported at last. They have decided to comply to my commands not to offer sacrifices. Commander Tuvok will be cared for while we are away.

The Captain queried.

They aren't waving spears at us, so I don't think they are intending to kill us yet and the stroll will undoubtedly do us all some good, the Colonel agreed happily.

The two priests led them from the building, talking animatedly to Seven of Nine as they went and ignoring both the Captain and the Colonel as they went. Seven of Nine however glanced nervously behind to ensure that her two friends were indeed following, before relaxing a little.

Perhaps they are intending to talk us to death? the Captain muttered under her breath after they had been walking for some fifteen minutes. Not once had she seen either of the tall priests stop to draw breath. What are they saying?

Wild guess, I'd say they are beseeching the Goddess' to stop trying to wash their houses away? the Colonel suggested lightly, pointing at a hut that had been engulfed in mud and the Priests had become particularly animated about. Plus a few other well chosen complaints about any other deity they think she might not think a lot of. In my experience priests are not unlike farmers, they like to complain a lot.

You're enjoying this aren't you? The Captain challenged with a grin and gripping his arm.

Actually, Yes I am, the Colonel admitted. For the first time in a month there is fresh air and nobody threatening to try and kill me. Admit it Captain, it is a pleasant change for you as well, without frivolous questions being asked?

The reply he got was a flash of a smile, before she released his arm again as Seven checked that they were still following.

Finally the priests took them up the hill on the opposite side of their small village, to a small dam that checked the flow of a stream, forming a pool in which children were playing with much squealing. The pool itself was fed by a fast water flume at the far end. There they were bade to sit as four Calhards approached bearing more baskets of food, before they bowed their way away again, leaving them to enjoy their meal.

The Captain descended upon the baskets with some enthusiasm, suddenly realising the size of the appetite she had gained from the walk. Whatever else they have or haven't got, she declared pulling out what she took to be something like a chicken leg coated in spices and sampling it. They can cook!

Never heard of Kentucky Chicken, Captain? The Colonel asked cheerfully offering the basket to Seven of Nine. I believe that originated from your neck of the woods?

Never heard of it. You keep forgetting that Earth is nothing like the place you left behind, the Captain reminded him, finishing her mouthful.

And you keep reminding me, Ma'am.

Now what was the purpose of the tour, Seven? The Captain asked as her hunger was sated.

Periodically there are violent storms in the hills behind the village, Seven of Nine explained. They precede high rainfall here. At such times the river that feeds the pool becomes a torrent and the dam overflows or is washed away and it causes heavy damage to the settlement. It has happened three times in the last ten years. They believe another torrent is due. At other times there are droughts, this causes the river to dry up. The water in the pool cannot service their needs for more than a month. They wish not to suffer either and wish me to prevent it happening.

Nothing much then! The Captain whistled. Colonel, do you think we can help them?

I'm not an engineer, Captain, he pointed out. I'd rather leave that to you and Mrs Nine. Tell me where to dig and I'll get them shovelling. But I don't think this is a good place to start. Besides the kids will lose their paddling pool!

They turned to watch the cavorting children.

It is childish and dangerous, Seven observed, as one child after another came shooting down the flume that fed the pool.

Not as dangerous as jumping from third story windows, which is what I did for kicks as a kid, the Colonel remarked getting up. In fact it looks as though it might be quite fun! Anybody want to help me find out?

I think Seven and I'll watch you test it first, the Captain laughed.

I will examine it, Seven of Nine declared getting up to follow him and casting a defiant glare at the Captain.

The Captain watched in amusement as the two of them worked their way around the pool to the top.

There were three children at the top when Colonel and Seven of Nine reached it. They all stood back respectfully as they arrived. One the Colonel reckoned was about twelve and had obviously used the flume before. The other two, a boy and girl appeared to be younger and more hesitant. He guessed that they had not.

With a signal he suggested that the oldest should demonstrate and watched with interest as he readily settled himself between two rocks then let himself slide away.

Satisfied, Mrs Nine? He challenged as the boy disappeared. Or would you like me to take you down?

Seven of Nine had not intended to physically try the ride, more to watch the Colonel to make a fool of himself. His challenge and the gaze of the two expectant children prompted her to step forward. Your navigation will be inferior. I will go down with the male child, she declared. 

She turned and spoke quietly to the two children then took the boy to the gap that formed the start of the run. Carefully she stepped into the crevice and felt the strength of the water trying to carry her down, then determinedly sat down in the torrent, gripping the rocks firmly. Place the child on my legs, she demanded calmly.

With a grin, the Colonel picked the boy up and placed him carefully between her legs. Hold tight! He shouted as the childs hands gripped the material of Seven's suit. He wished it was him, but there would be a chance later perhaps.

In one quick movement Seven of Nine let go of the rocks and wrapped both arms firmly and protectively around the child and they slipped from sight.

The Colonel watched her go with a grin of amusement at the defiant display, that became a barely suppressed laugh as a thin scream smote his ears. Then turned to the girl. Coming, Duck? He asked, settling himself in position. Almost reluctantly she stepped forward and onto his lap. She gripped his belt tightly as he let go and held onto her.

  


If Seven of Nine was unsure as to why she had allowed herself to be challenged into trying the water slide, she was even less sure why she screamed as she and her passenger tobogganed down together. It was not frightening as such, she realised. But there was exhilaration, even at the point where they were almost turned upside down when they careered around overhanging rocks, screaming seemed like a logical response. The ride also finished too quickly to fully assimilate the sensations, she decided as they were launched onto the surface of the pool and sank gracefully.

Spluttering to the surface again she was met by a face full of water, which seemed to be the standard welcome for users of the ride. At least until they realised who they were splashing. It subsided quickly.

She turned in time to see the Colonel come shooting out and hitting the water with a splash, a much larger one than she had made she noted carefully.

He too was met with the customary showers of water when he emerged, with Seven of Nine leading the onslaught. He responded in like fashion, sending scoops of water at Seven of Nine as he moved resolutely toward her. Finally he managed to place an arm around her.

I thought this was childish? He laughed pulling her close for a kiss.

He was met with the full force of her raised eyebrow. It was an interesting experience, she excused quickly.

The Colonels attention was diverted by his erstwhile passenger pulling on his hand to repeat the exercise, preventing him replying as he would have wished. Shall we? He asked.

Seven of Nine gripped his arm firmly and led him back to the edge of the pool and up the side back to the beginning of the ride again.

Two hours later they were joined by Captain Janeway. The sight of Seven of Nine appearing from the flume, child on lap, had caught her by surprise. It had simply not occurred to her that the sober ex-Borg would try something that childish, even with the Colonels encouragement. She had then watched in fascinated amusement as Seven of Nine repeated the experiment several times, sometimes on her own, at others with a child on her lap and finally in the lap of the Colonel. Her subsequent attempt to push him under water had the Captain splitting her sides in laughter.

I hate to stop you two children from playing! she laughed. But we have things to do?

I was testing relationships with children, Seven declared, though she managed to look a little guilty, even as she looped her hair back into its bun.

And your excuse, the Captain challenged the visibly blushing Colonel.

Rest and Relaxation, Ma'am. You wished me to Cheer up', he asserted. Before tonights events?

Still laughing the Captain led them back towards the village, the two priests in close attendance.

They were returned to their hut, two burly guards taking station beside the door, barring all attempts to leave again. Despite the day time casualness it was evident that it would not be appreciated having them wandering around the village at night. Prisoners exercise is now formally complete, the Colonel noted as he tried, to be met by two spears. 

He returned and examined the still unconscious Tuvok instead. The fever had returned, but was not as severe as it was he admitted and the wounds that were not healing had obviously stopped bleeding. All in all they medicine girls have done well, he admitted.

Tired but relaxed they settled to wait for the evening.

  


With the arrival of darkness, Seven of Nine stepped boldly through the doorway, to find that the guards that had greeted their return had gone again. Puzzled she looked around for them, but found no sign.

The guards have gone, she reported back to the relief of everybody. They had struggled hard to find some reason for Seven of Nine to demand the presence of her drones' on a nocturnal walk. In the end it had been decided that Seven of Nine was not to say anything, simply to rely upon their awe at her superiority. The only one that seemed to be happy at the proposition was the Colonel, the Captain thought he was simply being biased.

They were about to step out into what appeared to be an overcast night, when Tuvok groaned aloud. It had them darting back to kneel by his side to check his pulse and temperature.

I think one of us will have to stay behind, Captain, the Colonel opined. The Commander is coming around. He can't be alone when he does and he won't be pleasant. 

He paused for a moment to think before continuing. You and Mrs Nine carry on, I'll stay until he is awake enough to know what is happening. Keep in the shadows and remember if you are caught and they think you are desecrating their temple they are likely to be very unpleasant in very short order.

Captain Janeway nodded gratefully and rose to follow Seven of Nine as she passed through the door and into the night.

The Colonel tried to settle to the task of keeping the now twisting Tuvok company in the gloom of their small open prison. Silently he gripped Tuvoks hand. Takes more than bloody minded mind control doesn't it? he whispered in sympathy.

A small noise made him stiffen and hold his breath thirty minutes later. It was such a small noise it would have gone unnoticed normally in the normal course of events, but it did not fit here. It was the chink of metal on stone, and he had not seen a lot of metal here until now. 

For two whole minutes he sat still listening for more noises, his senses jangling violently in his head, then exhaled slowly and silently. He shifted his position slightly and disengaged his hand from Tuvoks, to be ready for what happened next as he sensed figures moving silently in the darkness around him.

In a sudden burst of movement, he suddenly rolled back, bringing his legs up and kicking hard at the figure his instincts knew was there. A leg connected with something violently and he heard it grunt as it staggered from the blow. He rolled and lashed with the other leg, snaring what he thought of as an assassin legs sending him over onto his back. Still rolling he brought himself to his knees then to his feet, gained his balance then stamped hard on the nearest part of the figures anatomy, a leg, while wildly looking for the other one he knew was there.

A faint green glow caught the Colonels attention and he lunged for it in a powerful rugby tackle, even as the realisation hit him as to what the glow signified. There were Borg on Calhard!

He struck it firmly in the midriff sending it staggering against the wall. Before the Borg could gain its balance the Colonel was lifting it up over his shoulder, then dropped it head first to the stone floor.

It lay stunned for a moment allowing the Colonel to return his attention to the first Borg that was starting to gain its footing. Its head was the recipient of the Colonel's steel toe capped boot, sending it reeling again. The blow would have fractured the skull of any human, but the Borg was made of sterner stuff. It started to regain its feet again. Seeing the action the Colonel was upon him again, taking the head in a powerful armlock he dragged the Borg at a full charge until its head smashed into the doorway lintel. Slowly the green light of the eyepiece faded as with a final twist of the neck the Colonel dropped it and turned to face the second that was even now approaching him.

A noise behind him made him spin again, to see two Calhard warriors shadowed in the doorway, their spears bared. Not waiting to see whose side they were intending to join, he leapt on them. Bringing his hands together he clubbed at the first sending him crashing to the floor, then span tripping the second. 

Both released their spears which the Colonel snapped up in one fluid movement as he regained his feet and charged at the remaining Borg, both spears bared. The two spears took it in the chest, the fire hardened points passing easily through the breast plate as he thrust and out the back. The continued charge smashed the Borg back to the rear wall. The two exposed points of the spear splintering as they came into contact with the hard stone wall.

The short contest was completed by another skull cracking blow from the Colonels boot sending the drones head smashing against the wall for the third time. The drone slid to the deck and made no more movement.

The Colonel turned to see what had happened to the Calhards, prepared for their assault. They had disappeared. Then he too slumped to the floor in exhaustion, the combat had taken less than three minutes, but he had thrown everything into it.

He lay there for a few minutes to regain his breath, before carefully standing and peering through the doorway. He could see nothing. That was not a complete comfort, he decided. The Calhards black skin would make them difficult to see in the dark and they had crept up on him before. Finally he made his way back to Tuvok.

I've got to find the Captain, he whispered quietly. But I've got to get you out of here and hidden first. There could be more Borg drones!

He was encouraged by a moan from the Commander. Quickly he removed his combat jacket and shirt, laying them on the ground behind Tuvoks head, dragged the commander onto them and proceeded to button both tight around him. It was not a perfect stretcher, but they would immobilise the injured Vulcan, it was relatively waterproof, offered some camouflage and gave him something to drag him by. This he proceeded to do in quick order, out of the hut and around the back into the hedges.

The Colonel found what he wanted within twenty yards, a thick bramble bush and dragged Tuvok into that, ignoring the vicious thorns that were scratching at him. Carefully he built a small windbreak around Tuvok using branches, then left him with a whispered warning to stay quiet and still. It was not a perfect solution and he suspected would be quickly detected if the Calhards were to start a search using their fieldcraft, but he hoped it would be adequate protection from the Borg for a while.

From there he set of down the road he had seen Seven of Nine and the Captain take earlier.

  


Seven of Nine led the Captain quickly down the path she had followed earlier that day back to the amphitheatre and temple. The sound of subdued chatter and once even laughter emanated from the small buildings as they passed, several had sprung what looked like thick curtains across their doorways dim light filtering past the edges giving even deeper shadows than before, but they were not challenged There seemed to be nobody guarding the amphitheatre or temple either. Not at the entrance or inside. They slipped through the shadows, keeping close to the walls, until they reached the statue.

The high priestess came from behind the statue, Seven of Nine stated calmly. We should investigate there.

Like two children on a night raid to the kitchen refrigerator they crept around the statue and down the passage that they found there. Peering expectantly into crevices as they went, unsure of what to expect. They found their equipment in a small alcove. From the small pile Seven of Nine found and extracted the Colonel's sword and silently slung it on her back before they continued.

The passage ended in a cavern a full fifty metres in diameter and they could see a faint light emanating from it.

Whatever they thought they may have expected, it was not the suite of advanced control panels they found when they stepped from the passage and they stopped to stare at it in bemusement.

Seven of Nine was the first to recover from the shock and cautiously approached the suite of controls to examine them more closely.

It is a communication and astrometric system, she claimed at last.

The Captain demanded quickly, moving up beside Seven. Certainly not the Calhards, they are using torches and candles in their homes!

There is a combination of Borg and other technology, Seven stated finally. It is old but remarkably powerful.

Could it have been the original Calhards, they must have been an advanced race when the Borg arrived? The Captain asked in fascination, running a hand over the strange controls. Could we use it to contact Voyager?

Seven of Nine considered both questions carefully before answering. We require more data before ascertaining the exact nature of the equipments history, it has been extensively modified. It can be configured to contact Voyager, but I am unfamiliar with the technology. I will have to study it further.

She turned back to her study of the controls. 

Perhaps you should investigate more of this facility, Seven suggested after a few minutes of the Captain watching her intently.

The Captain's smile was one of guilt as she took the hint. Fine. I'll also keep a watch for the priests, she agreed.

She stepped around and behind the system that was engrossing Seven and disappeared from sight, leaving Seven engrossed in her own investigation.

She returned fifteen minutes later looking worried. Seven, I think there is a problem!

Seven agreed quietly. This system was activated earlier todays. It is producing a broad beam Borg signal. I believe it may attempting to contact a Borg Unimatrix for assistance.

Have they had a reply? The Captain asked in alarm, her own findings momentarily forgotten.

Not yet, Seven admitted. I have terminated the transmission.

Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero-One. You and Captain Janeway have been resourceful and troublesome, but your efforts will ultimately be futile!

In alarm they both span and examined the twisted figure and the six Calhard warriors that were approaching.

The Borg Queen they realised together She still bore the scars from her meeting with the Colonel and his sword. Two massive scars marked her neck and chest where it had cut into them, her left hand was still missing. The head was lopsided from the obviously hasty repair after the Captain and Seven had dislodged it.

You were destroyed with the Unimatrix! The Captain heard herself gasp as she backed up beside Seven of Nine against the control panel.

Queen Borg almost smiled, though it looked more like a sneer. We are efficient. We were transferred to my command ship before the complex was destroyed. I underwent emergency repair from my drones.

You believe the Borg are controlled by a single Unimatrix? the queen continued to sneer. You are so limited in your minds, there are sixty. The Borg will rebuild to a level of greater perfection!

The Captain sensed Seven of Nine reaching behind her and guessed she was feeling for the sword on her back. Briefly she wondered if she would be able to use it, then stepped away from her in an effort to distract the Borg Queen.

You don't appear to have had a lot of success in contacting another Unimatrix with this equipment, the Captain claimed loudly stepping sideways to circle the queen. And you don't have any drones to protect you, I terminated the three in the alcoves at the back. So all you have are the primitives you despise! 

Are they really any better than our primitive, the Colonel. After all it was his idea to destroy your Unimatrix, not mine or Sevens, the Captain continued to taunt warming to the task. We used to be afraid of the Borg. Now I see how wrong we were. You are just another small time megalomaniac, with petty dreams and ambitions. It was the Colonel who pointed out that your stolen technology and knowledge doesn't help you, it hinders you, because you can't employ it. You can see how right he was. He destroyed the Unimatrix despite all of your confidence and technology. Now you are here on the primitive planet of one of your conquests, trying to be a God' and contacting somebody to help you escape. Why? Because you were beaten and can't survive without the technology. Why not just admit it, perhaps we will offer peace and help you to learn about the technologies you've stolen for everybody's benefit?

Nor will you have the benefit of your primitive, the queen sneered confidently. He has been terminated!

The Captain heard Seven gasp, then saw the giant blade of the Colonels sword flash as she finally withdrew it from its scabbard. Seven of Nine took a step forward, carrying the blade in both hands low and purposeful. She also recognised the look of determination on her face as she moved and frantically tried to distract the Borg queen further.

I don't think you can terminate the Colonel, she claimed, stepping forward to match Seven of Nines approach. Certainly not with drones and he allowed himself be captured by the Calhards. Or are you thinking the lack of weapons will render him ineffective?

For an instant the Borg queen seemed to hesitate, but regained her composure and turned to face Seven of Nine. Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero One. I can control your mind. You will terminate Captain Janeway! Comply!

Seven of Nine staggered as a look of pain flashed upon her face. The sword dipped in her hands. I will resist, she gasped desperately.

The Borg Queen insisted again, her brow furrowing in an effort to wrest control of Seven of Nines mind.

The sword dipped again until the point touched the floor, then lifted slowly again as Seven of Nine turned towards the Captain and advanced slowly, staggering drunkenly as she fought her own war against the unconscious thoughts that were driving her forward.

The Captain watched in alarm as Seven of Nine advanced upon her the sword coming up. she hissed desperately. You are an individual. You are Seven of Nine-Samuels. The Colonel's Collective, she is trying to take him and everything he means to you away from you!

Seven of Nine hesitated and the sword started to droop again.

The Queen screamed this time. The force of the mental blow driving Seven of Nine to the ground with a scream of pain.

The scream was answered by another louder and full of rage as the Colonel barged through the six warriors that were guarding the passage. He ripped a spear from the nearest shocked and clearly terrified guard and cuffed the next two sharply behind the ears with it, sending them to the floor.

It diverted the Borg Queens attention for a vital few seconds as she turned to identify the new player. Terminate him! she screamed at the remainder of the guards.

Dutifully the nearest lunged at the Colonel. The Colonel was ready for it, stepping smartly to one side. He span and threatened them with his own spear in one hand whilst gripping the one that had tried to impale him. He kicked its owner hard in the shin and pulled his spear clear from his surprised hand, turned it and drove it hard through his foot. The Calhard fell to the ground screaming in pain as he tried desperately to free himself.

The Colonel turned again and continued to advance upon the Borg Queen. You have hurt my wife! He hissed harshly. You should have taken the Captains offer of surrender. I will not offer one.

The Borg Queen looked sharply at the three uninjured guards and one, a little braver than the rest, threw his spear at the Colonel. It struck him in the back, just below the ribs. He stiffened in pain then reached behind him, sliding the spear out. He seemed to examine it for a moment then threw it hard at the Borg Queen. 

It struck her a glancing blow that made her stagger towards the still doubled up Seven of Nine. Regaining her balance, she stooped and wrapped a handless arm around Seven of Nines throat and dragged her to her feet.

You have lost! She screamed in victory as her other hand came up to Seven of Nines throat. I will assimilate Seven of Nine, then she will terminate you!

It did not slow the Colonels inexorable advance. I can treat her and she cannot assimilate me, he claimed.

Captain Janeway realising she had to do something to stop the events going beyond all possibility of control, saw the Borg Queen stagger as Seven of Nine struggled in her arms. The space between the queen and the fallen sword was increasing. She dived for the blade, sprawling on top of it. Gripping it firmly by the handle she rolled to her knees and drove it upwards at the figure of the queen, taking her just beneath the chest. At the same time Seven of Nine levering hard released herself from the neckhold and span away. It gave the space the Colonel needed to launch himself at her, landing upon her as she sprawled upon her back. Blindly he started to pummel the Borg Queen, beside himself with rage, each massive blow distorting the already twisted face beyond recognition and making the Captain shiver, shaken not only by the ruthless violence of the Colonel, but at her own actions as well. She slowly rose and threatened the remaining warriors until they sensibly turned and ran.

It was Seven of Nine that finally stopped the Colonel. She knelt carefully beside him and wrapped her slender arms around his shoulders, bringing his strong arms to a reluctant halt. She has been terminated, she said quietly, clamping her hand across the wound in his back and hoping nothing vital had been damaged.

He collapsed into her as the fury that had been driving him drained, leaving him pale, shivering and crying. She was trying to take you away from me! He sobbed pitifully, wrapping his own bleeding hands around her. It made me so angry!

Captain Janeway crawled up beside both of them. Seven, get him out of here, she whispered. I'll follow in a moment.

Slowly and with much help from the Captain, Seven of Nine lifted the Colonel to his feet, then they staggered slowly back up the passage, Seven of Nine supporting him. The Captain took a last look around the battle scene and was about to follow when she saw a faint glimmer of flashing light from the skull of the Borg Queen. She knelt to inspect more closely.

From behind a flap of skin that had been sprung by the incessant hammering it had received from the Colonel, lay a metallic skull. The Borg Queen had been even more machine than life form than they had thought, she realised uncomfortably, no wonder she had been able to repair herself. 

Small diodes still flashed weakly from its surface suggested even after that much punishment it was still operating. Slowly she rose and retrieved the sword, then with all the force she could muster, drove it through the cyborg skull then twisted. Here actions were rewarded by brief flashes of sparks as the last of the electronics shorted themselves out and the lights finally died.

She stood and watched it uncomprehending of her final actions for several moments before slowly walking away.

  


She found that quite a crowd had formed around their erstwhile cell. Some eighty Calhards had gathered silently around the doorway. They parted respectfully for her to pass between them then closed again as she ducked in.

The first thing she saw was Seven of Nine putting the final knot to a bandage around the Colonels chest. 

Where is Tuvok? The Captain asked in concern seeing the Commander was missing.

I hid him after we were attacked, Ma'am, the Colonel spoke weakly as he stood. I'll go and collect him now. Slowly he walked out leaving the Captain and Seven alone.

For a moment they sat in silence before Seven spoke. I am sorry, Captain. I tried to resist the commands from my implants. I was not strong enough. I would have complied to the Queens instructions. I lost my humanity by Borg command. She looked the Captain in the eyes seeking some form of understanding.

Captain Janeway slid a hand out and grasped the ex-Borgs wrist. We all lost control, you, me and the Colonel, she consoled gently. It was Humanity' that drove the Colonel to do what he did to protect you. I don't think there is anything wrong with that, provided he knows what he did.

He knows, Seven of Nine agreed quietly. He thinks it was inappropriate.

He will need your help to overcome it, the Captain said quietly.

Further discussion was interrupted as the Colonel returned, dragging the commander behind him. One Star Fleet Lieutenant-Commander, a little damp, alive, awake and almost certainly uncomfortable, though I doubt he'll admit to that, Ma'am, he declared almost happily as he lay Tuvok down again. 

It's started to rain again so the locals have all gone home, he added. I think all the action for today has been completed.

Quickly the Captain and Seven turned to Tuvok to find him as the Colonel had stated awake. The fever he had been suffering from had broken as well, leaving him pale and weak.

Welcome back! The Captain exclaimed thankfully, grasping his hand fiercely. Can we remove the jacket, Colonel? She called.

She called again, realising that he was not beside her. She turned to find the reason for lack of immediate reply and found the Colonel missing.

Seven. Find him, she demanded quickly fearful of his intentions.

He will be safe, Captain, Seven assured her, moving to comply.

She found him quickly, sitting with his back to the wall behind the hut. You should return to the shelter of our dwelling, she suggested taking up a classic at ease position and ignoring the rain. It is not yet clear that we are safe here.

He looked up at her shadowed figure. I'm always there when there is danger, he said quietly. It's the peace I find difficult. It gets more difficult to switch from one to the other. I nearly missed it today.

You did not fail, Seven of Nine pointed out shrewdly.

Only because I had someone to catch me. But it was close, damned close, he declared sadly. One day she might not be there to stop me.

Just give me a few minutes to finish collecting my thoughts and I'll be back, he continued more firmly. Quickly, before you collect your death of chill!

I will wait for you, Seven of Nine declared stubbornly.

The Colonel smiled and reached out a hand for her to grip. I'll come quietly. Just help us up?

Quietly they returned to the shelter of the hut, to be met by the Captains quizzical gaze.

Lieutenant-Colonel Samuels reporting ready for duty, Captain! He assured her, taking position by the door intent on keeping guard.

Seven and I'll keep guard, Colonel, the Captain informed him quietly. You need to rest. Seven, get him to settle, then rest yourself.

He made to protest, then sighed. Very well, Ma'am, he agreed with as much grace as he could muster. And moved in from the doorway a few feet, before laying himself out across the floor, resolutely taking a position that would trip anybody who entered. Guard or not he would know when people entered.

The Captain in her turn sighed and accepted the situation, settling to keep a quiet watch as Seven of Nine also settled behind her husband, her arm encircling his chest protectively.

Why is he so stubborn? the Captain mused aloud.

It would mean he would have to surrender otherwise, Captain, Tuvok replied weakly.

  


Captain Janeway woke with a start as light filtered into their hut through the doorway. A glance around showed that the Colonel and Seven of Nine had both disappeared and Tuvok was still sleeping. Guiltily she rose stiffly and stretched before approaching the doorway. There she found the Colonel carefully nursing a small fire and wearing a bright woollen smock like those worn by the priests.

The point of standing guard, Captain. Is not to fall to sleep, he chided. He turned and offered a mug to her. 

Mrs Nine and I went to the temple this morning and chased them around a little for our kit. There is a set of clothes here for you and a couple of proper blankets for the Commander.

She accepted the cup gratefully and took a sip before asking. Where is Seven?

She said she wanted to work out how the equipment down there worked, the Colonel explained. I think she has become quite fascinated by it. Besides the locals seemed quite insistent. She will be back a little later.

Will she be safe? The Captain queried in mild alarm at the proposition of the Colonel leaving her alone.

Quite safe, the Colonel assured her cheerfully. It seems we have been given new names. Apparently I'm Gwaith Fornadd Paroithag'.

Which means?

Something along the lines of the Giant that Protects the Goddess', or so Mrs Nine translated.

The Captain smiled. I almost approve of the title, it is fitting at least. So what names have Seven and I received?

Mrs Nine was referred to as Forniau Bwiathar', she neglected to translate for me, he confessed. I get Forniau', the Goddess bit, but have no idea as to the other word. You are referred to as Fornadd Dramboidd', or Helper of the Goddess'. All rather silly really but the Calhards seem happy. 

I think they are getting a new dose of religion, he added. There were a couple of new rocks in the courtyard and several chaps wandering around them with hammers and chisels.

Statues? That is against Star Fleet rules! The Captain exclaimed.

It will upset them greatly if you object, the Colonel pointed out. Besides Star Fleet needn't know and it was all I could do to stop them putting a third one up.

So you've stopped them creating a statue for you? the Captain laughed.

Of course! He seemed shocked that she should think otherwise.

Still grinning she turned to examine the smock and leather shorts that the Colonel had indicated. The material was coarsely woven but surprisingly soft to the touch. 

Wind and rain proof as well, the Colonel commented in approval, noting the Captains examination. Significantly superior to Star Fleet issue.

She grinned shyly at him and disappeared into the hut to try it on. She returned five minutes later and demonstrated the new garments to the Colonel.

He dutifully whistled the display, and she glared fiercely at him. 

It is probably a good job I'm married, Miss Kathryn Janeway. Otherwise I might be quite tempted to make improper advances, he teased.

I doubt it, the Captain responded mournfully. I can't compete against Seven and I feel like a sack in this!

I could tailor it for you? The Colonel offered helpfully.

I might take you up on it, the Captain agreed. I remember the dress you made for Seven and the suit! She settled beside the Colonel to enjoy the sun while it lasted.

Thank you for what you did for Seven yesterday, she said after a few minutes of reflection. All you have to do now, is to get her to admit she enjoyed herself.

I'm working on it, the Colonel confessed. Mrs Nine missed most of her childhood. I try to make the best of any opportunity to show her what she missed.

It strikes me you are succeeding rather better than anybody could have hoped, the Captain declared.

Well we both have some discoveries to make, Ma'am, the Colonel declared. Most of my childhood memories are bruises. It is nice to be a child and enjoy yourself once in a while. No matter what your age?

Are you challenging me to try the water slide, Colonel? The Captain teased.

Only if you wish to, the answer was smooth. But it might be better to find somebody that can help you feel that you want to be that young first?

It was a curious suggestion the Captain decided. It would require some thought before she responded to it. She wondered again how much he knew about her and the feelings of loneliness that sometimes haunted her.

  


Seven of Nine returned at lunch time with a number of Calhards bearing baskets of fruit and cooked meat. She looked decidedly pleased with herself, the Captain decided, then caught her breath at what she was wearing. The Colonel had neglected to inform her what the Calhards and offered her to wear and she had assumed it was another of the died woollen smocks. She had not expected a tight bikini top and low slung shorts that clung tight to the calves. Her bare stomach and arms clearly showed the small Borg implants on her right arm and below the right breast. Nor had she expected a fine trace tiara, that sparkled with small point jewels, to be placed on her head.

You didn't tell me about that! The Captain whispered in ferocious jealousy.

I didn't know, Ma'am, the Colonel hissed, unable to drag his own eyes from the apparition. Last I saw was another woollen cloak. Mind you it suits, don't you think?

The Captain shrugged non-committaly, then spoke up. You've got something to report, Seven?

I have contacted the ship, Captain, Seven of Nine reported, taking her classic stance, hands behind her back, chest out, seemingly not noticing the stares she was receiving from all around her. Commander Chakotay reports some damage, but she is underway. Arrival in three weeks. I have also used the facilities to plan a new route for the Alpha Quadrant. It will require checking using our own Astrometrics suite, but should be acceptable.

That is good going, how did you manage it? The Captain complemented.

There is much additional Borg circuitry within the systems structure that I recognise. Deducing the function of the remainder was comparatively simple, Seven admitted sitting herself beside the Captain. It was made easier by the neural net I placed upon my head. She indicated the tiara with a dismissive wave of the hand.

I have also detected three other Borg Unimatrices, she whispered so that the Colonel did not hear. They are transmitting signals, but they appear to be random and disorganised. I believe there may be conflict regarding superiority. Should I tell the Colonel?

The Captain looked at the Colonel as he examined the food offerings and shook her head. I think, unless they are a danger to us, the less he knows about the situation of the Borg the better, she whispered back. Otherwise he might decide to visit them as well!

Mind, if you should find out more about what they are upto, it might be enlightening? She suggested.

I shall comply, Seven agreed as the Colonel dragged a basket back towards them.

As we seem to be the First Contact' we had better make the most of it, the Captain declared as they finished lunch. It'll keep us doing something useful for the next three weeks.

Seven and I, will find out as much about their history and culture as we can. You Colonel will help them find a new site for a dam and flood relief. Then we can design a proper reservoir and flood defence.

I was about to suggest something similar, Captain," the Colonel admitted. "We need to pay them in some way and we need something to drive us. I will look for a possible site, starting tomorrow morning.

That's agreed then, the Captain sighed. Now Tuvok, how do we look after him?

The village healers will care for him, Seven of Nine declared firmly as she rose. I will obtain guides for the Colonel and adapt the remaining Borg translators for your use.

  


Three weeks later found the Captain sitting on an arete, looking down upon the civil works that the Colonel and the Calhards had started and had nearly completed. He had found that the river that fed the pool above the village forked several kilometres above it and had followed that into the next valley. There it had broadened into a valley over a kilometre across and eight long with a narrow but deep lake of its own held in check by a high lip at its narrow lower end, where the river had cut a new gorge to drain the valley again. It was across that lip that they had started to construct a dam, filling the gorge. He had sketched out what he thought would be a suitable design for her approval and she and Seven had dutifully calculated capacities and commented upon the design. In retroflection, the Captain decided, he had a much better idea of what the dam he was proposing was capable of than she had.

It was not an impressive dam in its engineering, she reflected certainly not a patch on the mighty Victoria or Michigan dams on Earth. But it was a marvel all the same, considering the tools the Calhards had at their disposal. 

It appeared as a deep Vee shape where it blocked the river's cutting, barely twenty metres tall at its deepest point tapering to less than five where it met the cliffs at either end, 70 metres long and six wide, it had been built using massive tree trunks, culled from the forests in the plains below for its backbone, then heavily reinforced by earth and rock, hand dug from the bottom of the valley itself. It meant that the original valley lake would be over 50 metres deep when it was full and hold enough water for the Calhards to survive a drought of more than six months, yet the largely soil wall would not be washed away in the resultant floods. It stood as testimony to the hard work that the natives had put in under the direction of the enthusiastic Colonel and the ever efficient Seven of Nine.

All it needed now was Voyager to open the entrance to the stream that fed the valley and the Captains part of the small miracle would be complete.

That only left Tuvok as a cause for concern. Under the ministrations of the village healers and the ever watchful eye of the Colonel the visible injuries had healed, leaving nothing more than scars from the explosion and he was now awake for several hours during the day. But he was still paralysed from the waist down. 

It was at Tuvoks request, during one of these periods of consciousness, that the Colonel had started carrying out what she considered to be some pretty violent physiotherapy on the commander, to help in the healing process. So far they had yielded no positive results.

"Tuvok said you would be here, Captain!" The quiet sound of Chakotays voice made her jump.

"How long have you been here?" She stammered in surprise and turning to look up at the smiling face of her second in command.

"Couple of hours," he said softly. "We've beamed Tuvok back to the ship, along with the Transwarp Coil you seem to have acquired. The Doctor is tutting around him now. All we need to get underway is the rest of the party?"

"Not until we've finished here!" The Captain protested quickly turning back to the view before them.

"An impressive piece of work, isn't it?" She drawled happily, indicating the valley before them. 

"Couldn't this be taken as breaking the Prime Directive?" Chakotay asked with a hint smile as he sat beside her.

The Captain frowned in perplexity as she considered the question. "I don't see how," she said finally. "The Calhards already had contact with other races and that is hardly advanced engineering they are doing."

"Besides it was either this or have the Colonel finding me things to do. I know which I would prefer," she added with a laugh.

"So do I!" Chakotay agreed in consolation. "I'm amazed you are still on speaking terms."

"We nearly weren't!" She grinned.

"I watched Star Fleet Terraforming engineers building a dam once," she continued more seriously. "Ten times bigger than this obviously, but it was all built from precastings. All they did was snap it together and it took them six months. Here the whole village has been working night and day using nothing more than shovels and they've done it for themselves, without concrete or replicators. That is impressive! It is what exploring should be about!"

Chakotay looked at her in surprise. I thought you didn't like roughing it? he asked in surprise.

I don't, she smiled back at him. But the last few weeks, it's felt as if we are achieving something. It has been satisfying?

She has learnt to relax a little as well, she commented, pointing to a slender figure picking her way around the rocks below, heading in the direction of the dam. They have made her a Goddess', you know.

So I heard. Another of the Colonels tricks? Chakotay grinned.

The Captain shook her head. They did it themselves. I'm merely her helper and the Colonel's her protector. It seems to be fairly accurate here.

From their vantage point they continued to watch the activities below.

  


The Colonel was on his knees in the original stream bed examining the sluice gate and runners that had been mounted across the original water course. Of all the aspects of the dam this was the one that was proving the most troublesome and the most vital for its continued existence. Put simply, it refused to lift more than half way up its two metre travel. Carefully he mounted a scaling ladder as he felt along the length of the crude runners that it operated upon and felt another knot from a branch that had been loped off. He sighed, the Calhards for all their enthusiasm missed the most obvious faults.

Take an axe to this lump here, Moiraidd, he demanded of his attentive assistant. Then check the rest. Any lumps like this will make the gate difficult to open when the dam is full. Then whoosh goes the dam.

He climbed down from the rickety ladder and looked around. The sun was starting to drop below the shoulder of the valley, bathing it in golden glows and deep shadows. It was almost time to finish for the night. Down the steep valley sides he could see a slender shadow approach and looked up to find its owner. A slender figure whose hair formed a glowing halo around her head as it bobbed from her movement.

Ah my Goddess of Light approaches, he declared happily, taking a step towards her.

Not just light, Master, Mairaidd claimed from the ladder. Forniau Bwiaddau, brings new life!

The colonel looked up at the craftsman in some surprise. Not yet she hasn't, he blurted. But thank you. Now I know why she didn't translate.

He continued towards her.

There are problems? Seven of Nine demanded without preamble when they met.

Nothing that Mairaidd and his axe can't fix, he assured her. But you weren't entirely honest with me the other day, when you agreed at my attempt at translating your title?

The definition was accurate! Seven protested quickly, a faint blush coming to her tanned features.

Definition yes, but perhaps not the meaning, the Colonel teased. Still either will suit me quite nicely. You are my Goddess of Light. We will have to work at making the other one true. Come on. We've enough time for me to have a quick bath before the evening meal. Then an evening with you in my adoring arms will make up for being economical with the truth?

He placed an arm around her and squeezed, before leading her back to the well trodden path to the village.

  


I want this rock blasted out to a depth of about three metres below the water level, Captain Janeway explained to Lieutenant Caerey and Ensign Wildman the following morning. That way we think the majority of the river will follow the stream to the new reservoir, but won't stop all the flow to the old one.

They were standing on top of a wide rock outcrop that formed a restriction at the point where the river forked into its two smaller streams.

Why not simply block the old stream, Captain? Caerey asked cautiously. It would be easier.

It is the most convenient supply of water for the village, the Captain explained. The new river will be over a kilometre away and they have no plumbing as such to bring it closer. Can you do it?

Yes, Captain, they agreed readily, making her laugh.

She left them to mark out the target area to rejoin the Colonel and Seven of Nine where they were waiting on the far bank.

Tell me you haven't done this before, Colonel? The Captain challenged nervously. Do you want to give the order to fire?

Never tried to move a river, Ma'am. As for giving the firing order. It's your boat up there. The honour is all yours. 

He turned to Seven of Nine. Mrs Nine, I have a pressing urge to try the water slide just once more. Just in case all the wonderful science of the Captain's gets it wrong and I never have the opportunity to do it again. Besides I'd hate to see her cry if it doesn't work, he grinned. Would you honour me with your presence?

The Captains calculations are accurate, Seven of Nine protested loyally. 

The Captain laughed at the gentle teasing and retaliated in similar vein. If it doesn't I'll knock a path through with that giant chip on your shoulder, Colonel.

Which one, Ma'am? I find I am particularly well balanced, he declared. Chips on both shoulders.

Both! I should know better than try and get the better of you. Now disappear if you want to, she demanded in mock despair, turning back.

From the other side of the river she saw Ensign Wildman waving to her to show that she and Caerey had completed their marking up, then turn and slip away to a safe vantage point.

She touched her communicator. Captain to Voyager. Fire! She drawled.

For thirty seconds she shielded her eyes as the brilliant beam of Voyagers main phasor armament vaporised the rock along the precise path she had calculated. 

Slowly the outcrop reappeared from the clouds of steam as the river overcame the heat of the glowing rock. There was a loud cracking noise, followed by an equally loud groan, almost matched by her own groan, as an extra sliver of rock split off the parent and into the pool that Voyagers phasors had created.

I think that was a very clever touch, Ma'am, the Colonel commented stepping beside her, Seven of Nine holding his arm. I would never have thought of overcutting and letting the rock fill the hole up again to form a weir when it split. I'd have simply built one.

She looked at him sharply, trying to determine if he was making fun of her, but his face suggested admiration. I didn't, she admitted. I didn't know what contraction to allow from the phasors. I just over compensated.

Still. I didn't do too badly considering all I had was a slate to work with! She declared brightly. I thought you were taking Seven for a swim?

I wouldn't miss your moment of triumph for all the tea in China, Ma'am!

You can't make tea like yours from China tea! The Captain laughed. You almost had me believing you were impressed by my mathematics!

Never had much time for maths, Ma'am, the Colonel admitted more seriously. General Fletcher's father once told me it was the results that counted. How you get there doesn't matter greatly, just as long as you got them honestly. And we've scored there.

Now. Seven has informed me that Mr Neelix has been so good as to send some proper tea and I haven't had any for nearly a month. Care to join us in a He offered an arm to her.

The Captain took a shy look at Seven of Nine. May I?

It is appropriate, Seven declared.

Still smiling, the Captain refused the Colonels arm, but took Seven of Nines instead and they walked down the hill back towards the village.

  


Their arrival in the village was greeted by a large body of silent Calhards that closed around them as they passed, blocking their return to their quarters and respectfully directing them down towards the temple.

What's going on? the Captain whispered in alarm.

Both Seven and the Colonel shrugged, showing their joint ignorance, until they came within earshot of the temple and the general sounds of a party.

The Colonel suggested as they entered the amphitheatre. I wonder if they get as wild as in Belize?

It certainly looked similar. Around them were gaily died cloaks and tassels as the Calhards danced themselves into a frenzy to the incessant beat of drums and strange deep throated flutes.

Carefully they were ushered forward towards a small party of Voyager crew, led by Chakotay, who were studying two statues.

It's a good likeness of the Captain, Chakotay commented aloud to B'Elanna, seeing the Captain appear from the corner of his eye.

B'Elanna agreed, playing up to the prompting. They have really captured her scowl and the pointed chin. Everything!

I don't scowl! Captain Janeway protested indignantly, pushing forward. Do I? 

Then she looked up at the gently smiling effigy of herself, its eyes open in wonder, hand held out as if offering something, legs slightly apart. Chakotay and B'Elanna both laughed at her. 

Only when the Colonel and Seven have pulled a fast one on you, Kathryn! Just as they have done now, Chakotay claimed. They took off when you let go of Seven.

I guess they have important things to do, she drawled, then caught herself as her face broke into the same soft smile that emblazoned the statues face. She scowled for the effect before looking at Sevens, to the renewed giggles from B'Elanna.

Seven's is better, she declared lightly. Except for the sword on her back I can see her like that on Voyager arguing with me over something or other.

Isn't there one missing? B'Elanna asked.

The Captain grinned wolfishly at her. If he won't let me mention him in the logs, what chance have they got of making something as obvious as this?

A young priestess gibbering excitedly, pulled at her sleeve. Fornadd Dramboidd. Come! Must see!

Puzzled over the young woman's insistence, Captain Janeway followed, beckoning for the others to do so as they entered the temple. They followed her into a brightly lit recess.

I thought the Colonel, Gwaith Fornadd Paroithag, had forbidden it! The Captain cried, as she was met by another statue.

Paroithag not always here, the priestess pointed out pragmatically. We hide when he come. Is suitable?

Critically the Captain circled the stone. It depicted the Colonel on one knee, hands resting on his massive sword, looking up almost adoringly. A set of small wheels at the base showed how careful the priests had been to ensure that the statue could be moved at a moments notice. 

They can carve! Chakotay whistled. I can see the arrangement of them now.

So can I, the Captain admitted uncomfortably. It shows just who is in charge and it's not the Colonel or me. 

Still the Calhards are doing something that I haven't worked out how to do yet. They are recording his passing. Find me a holo-imager, I fully intend to embarrass him infront of his children, she laughed before turning to the nervous priestess. Very good!

  


The Colonel had, as Chakotay had correctly observed, led Seven of Nine from the amphitheatre as soon as attention had been drawn to the Captain. Our destination? Seven of Nine asked as the Colonel led her on from the village. She suspected she knew where they were going and was not unprepared for the event, nor would she be an unwilling participant.

I meant what I said earlier, I want to try that slide for the last time, the Colonel declared. Tomorrow we become dull spacemen again. I'd like one more chance for a little fun with water, ideally with the beautiful young woman I love.

Seven of Nine was quiet for a moment before replying. Your proposal is acceptable. 

You will not require the slide, she added, taking the lead and turning to the path that led directly to the pool.

You should remove your garments before entering, she observed as they reached the rocks that surrounded the pool.

Without waiting to see if he complied she deftly pulled at the ties of the skimpy Calhard clothing, letting them drop to the floor, before lowering herself into the cold water and wading to the centre of the pool to await his arrival.

I remember the first time we were like this, he commented dreamily as he followed her a few moments later. 

I tried to wash your hair and back. But was too frightened to do more, even this, he said pulling her into an embrace and kiss. For a few moments their teeth and tongues clashed as Seven gripped him hard.

What a fool I was, he sighed when they broke for air.

Your actions were appropriate to your values, Seven of Nine offered. It was when I found a satisfactory level of human company. You may complete the task you commenced then.

No soap, the Colonel pointed out.

Irrelevant, you will adapt.

He slid around behind her, embraced her, then nibbled her neck as he started to massage. You know the Calhards have a prophesy about us? He whispered. About the Mother of Light. After she was cast from heaven for being too aloof. She wandered for some time, lost and alone, before she befriended an equally lost giant. He was terrified of her beauty and power, but he adored her, vowing to protect her from all evils. Until one day she realised that she loved him and managed to trap him for a mate. The parallels are rather plain, don't you think? 

Did they have offspring? Seven of Nine whispered, thrilling to the intimate touch.

I think we will have to find out, Moiraidd didn't get that far, the Colonel answered, lifting her easily onto a large flat rock, before following her.

Their love making was gentle and passionate under the stars, the water slapping at them as they wrapped themselves in each other. Finally they dozed in each others arms, occasionally waking long enough to kiss the other tenderly. Until they were woken with a start by a thin scream.

  


Captain Janeway took a last reflective stroll around the Calhard village as the party started to die down. She could have brought Chakotay with her on her evening stroll, just as she often did for her strolls around the ship. There was something comforting about his presence, the mild manner and amused looks, as they talked together about events in the past or to come, that had allowed her to take him as her closest friend and confidant. But that was all he was, she told herself, there was no room in her life for a lover. Not until Voyager was home, or there was no hope.

Hope. There had been times when even that robust feeling had looked distinctly weak, she reflected as she found herself following a well trodden the path up the hill. But she had never lost it, even though it looked as if it might lose her a lot of other things, ship, crew and friends. Now it was starting to feel as though it was paying off. They had fallen into deep perils and shaken them off again so many times that hope wasn't needed anymore. She knew that she would get her ship and friends home again. If asked where the certainty came from she would not be able to supply an answer. It was just a feeling. All she needed to do was complete one small challenge and see two others come to a fitting conclusion to prove it to herself.

She reached the top of the water course that filled the small pond above the village and gazed at the small cleft that marked the start of the water slide, steeling herself to take the ride, knowing it was the beginning of the proof she sought for her conviction. Slowly she removed her uniform, folding it neatly and placing it where it would remain safe and dry, reducing herself to nothing more than the leather underwear that the Calhards had provided. Equally slowly she stepped into the cleft, feeling the cold water drag at her foot, before lowering herself to a sitting position, grasping the slippery rock firmly either side.

Not firm enough. Before she was settled her grip was broken and she was whisked into the tunnel that formed the slide. She screamed loudly in surprise, then again, louder, as she felt herself turn upside down where the water ricocheted through a tight bend. She barely had time to regain her breath before she was ejected onto the pool. She rose spluttering from the cold water, hitching up her shorts, which had seemed to slid down during the short ride, as she did so. She turned resolutely for the bank, climbed out and walked back up the side towards the top again.

  


The Colonel and Seven of Nine looked at each other in surprise and delight as the Captain shot out the end of the slide. They continued to watch as she silently climbed out of the pool and walked off again.

If she isn't back in ten minutes, then I'd say she has done what she came for, the Colonel suggested.

A single run is insufficient experience, Seven of Nine hissed back with feeling. She will try again.

Silently they continued to watch from their hiding place in the shadows, until the scream came again. This time the landing in the pool was not as unceremonious, but was equally wet. The Captain emerged, wiping her hair from her eyes, then stopped. I know you are there and you were right, Colonel. It was enjoyable. But you or Seven say anything aboard the ship about it and I'll have you polishing shuttles for the rest of the trip home! She declared loudly looking fixedly towards the shadows that hid them.

Our lips are sealed, Ma'am! The Colonel called out happily. But it is still better with company!

They watched as once again the Captain hitched up her shorts and climbed out again.

Seven of Nine turned back to her man. There are other occasions where a single experience is insufficient, she declared, rolling on top of him, propping herself up with an elbow upon his chest, then running the finger tips of her left hand down his sides and thigh and up again, feeling him squirm under her.

He moaned, before reaching up and pulling her down again.

  


Captain Janeway emerged purposefully from the Turbo Lift and stopped nonplussed, as she was met by almost half the crew all applauding her return. She coloured in embarrassment until it died away.

We wanted to welcome you home, Captain! Neelix announced standing at the front of the crowd. B'Elanna thought you might have regrets about leaving, being a Goddess and things. We thought we ought to remind you that you belong here taking us home!

How could I forget! The Captain laughed. Besides I wasn't the Goddess they looked to. But it's nice to be home again and at least able to think I am in charge.

Now this is a Star Ship and you all have duties. So lets get to them and head home, she commanded. Lieutenant Paris, set course for the Alpha Quadrant, warp eight. We've lost some ground in the last month. We need to make up ground again.

It took her another fifteen minutes to reach her command chair as the crew all tried to personally welcome her home. In the end she sank gratefully down upon it, before turning to the broadly smiling Chakotay.

Home, Sweet Home, at last, she sighed.

  


  


  


Revision 14

   [1]: mailto:story@rgower.f9.co.uk



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